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Per Audacia Ad Astra
The moth who has his wings charred black by flame,
Do I admire him for being burned?
Would Icarus again choose just the same,
Though all he touched were harsh seas as they churned?
How right it is, we’re so destroyed by heat,
When we so dearly seek the warmth and light;
Though those who picture life so small and fleet,
Believe mistakenly gentle night.
Eyes turned in search for glow of distant stars
Find just Selene upon her silver throne.
The pricks of luminescence seen afar?
Like marking graves, sky filled with shining stone.
Upon close look, it’s found to their anguish,
Each holds two words: I wish... I wish... I wish...
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This began, like much of my work, a short entry in the notes of my phone. Reading "the stars, just bright tombstones engraved with the words 'I wish,'" I think it perhaps better as an idea in my head than down in words, but the stars were never reached without a few mistakes and a lot of courage