Through a telescope

I am writing a history lesson

one of my own

from living life looking

through a telescope

so as not to be too near

or to awaken fears

so from a distance I witnessed

stars burn out

the big dipper run dry

humans die

without ever knowing love.

Late at night voices of

ghosts speak with same forked tongue

seems nothing can ever change

except kindness from strangers

whom I’ll never meet.

A history lesson is unfolding

on a daily basis

on sunny days or in

rages of inner storms

to be told when, if allowed

I grow old.

Whirling round in winds

my troubled wings

snap

but you can’t see that

unless you got a telescope.