The Brightest And The Darkest Poem by Robert Rorabeck

A letter to the doctors of the plagiarisms:
I have found you,
And my sophomore teacher accused me of you,
Mrs. Brown:
And now I teach the same requiem to
The students who are those offspring—
The rings of Saturn's orbit,
Of the angels that seldom dream, or are
Dreamed about—
But there they are—you cannot see them
From your telescope,
But your horses are afraid of them—they smell
Of the solstice and the equinox,
Of both the brightest and the darkest—
And they remain above the highways,
As above the housewive's cul-de-sacs—
They are the heirlooms of our daydreams,
And they are very unspecific:
Never talked about or wished upon by all of the
Heavens—but they are the spotted wells
In each of us that we have never—never found.