What’s behind the moon
in this starry bangled sky?
Under these empty wishes
I fall over–
closer words. I can’t imagine
anything farther from space.
Nothing special anyway.
Everything has its place,
but by twilight, I’ve nowhere else to hide
from what I ask tonight:
What creates the sunbeam
after passion burns out?
Around these empty streets,
I don’t know
anymore about faith
than what I think
about how to walk across water
what little I can ask
by this lamp, further in your shade,
I’m nervous to know:
What’s behind the universe
in your heaven by the stars?
Before golden gates, I stand,
to be judged
after all
