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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
This short poem is about how we, as humans, view and understand our surroundings.

Submitted: January 15, 2017

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Submitted: January 15, 2017



On the gleam of day and the dusk of night there sat a man with ruined sight.

Each night on the mountain, he sat there gazing at the brilliant twinkles of light.

Soon a stranger called up to the dreamer with fount in.

"Oh old man, why must a person such as you seek out the stars without sight?".

The old man turned listening intently without fright.

With a light in his voice he spoke, "I do not seek the stars you speak of, I seek the very dream of gazing into the night sky."

Confused, the stranger called up again in the gleam of the moonlight.


"But sir, you are visionless, how must you dream of beautiful lights when you haven't the ability to view them?".


"The Stars you speak of I do not see, I construe my own stars, I see what I wish to see, wish to describe, like you."

No more questions, the stranger had, as he took it apon himself to sit with the old man, for his last day had passed.

© Copyright 2019 Arkeus Maxson. All rights reserved.

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