I was once told by a boy that he pitied me;
a boy that could not name his favorite color,
that could not understand that I have wept at blue,
the color of midnight with one star, or no stars,
occluded as they were, by a storm. How can it be
that the planets, orbs as they are, can be displaced
by our clouds? No wonder men for millennia were convinced
that Earth was the center of it all--the gods' preferred pet.
Pity is such a small thing, after all.

08/28/2009

Posted on 08/28/2009
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