Open Flight

Stars have hollowed out 

our longing, backlit flimsy 

clothes we wear to cover 

up our fear. When we cannot 

recognize the resting place 

of essence–dwelling everywhere 

yet nowhere we can name, 

we carry small conceits 

in separate pockets made 

of stardust, cloud the sky 

with dust devils winged

by pointless conversation,

seek comfort in our dream 

world, let vastness pass us by.

Opening the heart of eternal love

reveals what mind only guesses.