On any night you choose, the sky will fill
With countless fine reminders of our place
In the scheme of things—not king of the hill
So much as one more breathing, seeking race.
The elements around us all conspire
To lift our sense beyond a narrow scope
And join the larger world that does not tire,
Enduring past the point of mortal hope.
We speak at times in tongues of something known,
Something so desirable and wished-for,
It seems as if we live this life on loan,
Unable to forget there's something more
Than tears and pain and feeling hopelessly
Divided from the life that's meant to be.
©2016 Michael Fraley
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