I miss the night sky.
In the city,
you can’t see much:
only the moon
and the very brightest stars;
the glorious Milky Way remains
unsuspected, unimagined
by most who live out their lives
within the city’s glare.
I miss the night sky.
In the grave,
the stars of the deathlands,
are few and faint and strange,
the last fading embers
of fires already extinguished,
and we who rise up out of the grave
are too preoccupied with our pain
to pause and look at the night sky.
[Darrell Schweitzer]