Cold comradeship do stars provide.They light the closer, inner sideOf night's vast weight, which, chill and clear,Pulls on us like some puppeteer.Its unseen threads to heads and heartsAttached, it acts us through our parts,From birth's first cry to bent old age,Upon our distant, tiny stage.
That's why I like the blackest nights-the darkest, obsidian skies of winter. When the world is coldest and darkest, the stars shine brightest.
Obsidian and Stars
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That's why I like the blackest nights-the darkest, obsidian skies of winter. When the world is coldest and darkest, the stars shine brightest.
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