Wounds of starlight.

Why the bird must sing
in the quarter sky before the dawn

Whilst I must capture dreams of ever
The after comes in every morn,

For severed hearts would not comply Where dreams had reached
the opal sky,

in lights great interlude of foreseen
night,  Beneath the open wounds of starlight

Such a place of discontent, if I with eyes to close or open, could not bare the view from dark

No moon or stars in heaven

For only love to trespass, upon my flesh as parting ways

The bird must sing into the light And
confront with song the days.