Star's Spark Poem by Andrew Crawford

Oh my little star,
it wasn't meant
to be so hard;
arduous and harsh,
this isn't really
what we are.

Starved for
unadulterated ardor,
shimmering shards
of our hearts
brittle and shivering,
slivers carving sharply
through the dark.

Twilight garnished,
blinking,
dot dash dot dash, parsed;
sometimes falling,
shooting, dart;
make a wish, but hark-
God slips
between the bars
and kisses
heaven's borrowing arms
marred from
twisted bristles, brambles, and barbs.

Boundless black reservoir,
lapping waves of tar
tarnishing our ark,
hull a canvas for
rorschach art;
split this sea of sorrow apart,
create our wake,
looming larger,
wind to swell our sails,
light speed, we charge,
constellations chart.

A million miles
farther from our start
in search of
lighthouse and harbor,
shining catharsis
to guard us from harm.

But all it takes is a spark-
contrasting, blinding, stark-
and this sea will be charred
leaving no mark,
illuminating what is ours-
so come on,
we've already embarked.