eat lunch over black fabric

by on January 6, 2013 :: 0 comments

I sometimes think in thoughts given away
Of someone with something much better to say
I sometimes think in prayers never heard
Of someone who would have easily never occurred
I sometimes think in dreams alive and dead
Of someone who choked on all the wished he had saids
And I sometimes think in truth and lies
Of someone with every reason but a reason why
I’m a hundred million different people all at once
But all these different people still eat the same lunch
All of us are stars at night
Shining bright and white
But shining old light
I sometimes think we’re holes in the same black fabric
That’s draped over the sun when the days are over.

editors note:

We all rehash the stories told in those pinprick lights; so old to sky, so new to us. – mh

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