The stars don't care about aspirations Ascetic or saintly Wan faced or painted faintly. The stars don't care who reaches Or stoops, who grasps or plucks Who drinks or shoots or fucks. No, the stars are absolute: They 'Are', they exist - They splutter and gutter and fizz. Some flame out, some implode; Yet others burn steadily, Hang dark matter heavily From sky hooks Through bad looks And hard years endure. The stars are mindless oinks. There is no point in telling This hell or that heaven To go take a hike, Or make it towards the light Or involve them in the desires Of wretched artists Who concern themselves With minutiae, I tried to tell ya Per aspera ad astra Is doomed to failure. None of us know how to Really make it happen Anyway.
Si ad stellam perveneris, manus tuas tandem ardebis. 🙂
Audentes fortuna iuvat.
As Mrs. Raines…my high school Latin teacher would say all to often…”tempus Fugit” so the brave much act quickly…and so it goes.
I have lost most of my latin and greek. I never really had the patience for it, or the temperment. “And so it goes” might be the final word on the matter, my friend. How true.
Great read , I like the punchy delivery in this
Thank you so much, Jay. Good feedback is always nice.