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.
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.
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.
Indeed!