My Soul is a Star

18 July 2000

Clear nights I go up on the roof,

and in the swirling summer sky,

among the many sparks of light,

I try to find my soul.

My landlady warns I’m not allowed,

but always does so with a smile.

I feel she intuits my goal

and that she’s also sat here for a while.

I look up to the dark background and see

countless crystals of light

desperately trying to poke through.

It makes me wonder why all the things that love me

are banished away so far!

Dear soul, art thou a star?

You could not be a moon or planet;

though they’re not close, they’ve felt our hands.

My soul has got to be among the stars

that we can’t journey to in our lifespans.

Sometimes, I guess, I must try to be sad;

I’m always morose when I watch the stars.

For even if I found my soul,

I still could never know

if the light I see ’s from a star still-bright

or the ashes, scattered, dead and cold,

of a star that burned out long ago.