Younger Stars

I am my own shadow.
 
 
I only exist
 
within the lines  
 
on this page;
 
 
my shapeless form,
 
cast in literary
 
fabrications
 
and amalgamated
 
realities.  
 
 
A mad scientist
 
building quazi-poetic
 
beasts of  
 
distorted dreams;
 
attainable only
 
in the keys
 
beneath my digits.
 
 
My keyboard
 
could speak of dreams
 
beyond the count
 
of the stars -  
 
 
though, the stars  
 
in my sky
 
are less  
 
than you might find  
 
in New York City -  
 
 
dotting the expanse
 
ever so sparsely  
 
 
as they are drowned  
 
by the lights
 
of those more
 
brilliant than they.
 
 
To these dreams
 
I cling
 
as they lead me
 
into realms
 
only the brilliant
 
travel;
 
 
a world in which
 
I am but a vagabond  
 
silently following
 
the road;
 
 
hoping only  
 
for a weary passerby
 
with feet as tired
 
as my own
 
 
to sit for a spell
 
and share tales
 
of younger stars
 
 
in skies  
 
beyond the reach
 
of arrogant  
 
city lights.