The Dangers of Stargazing

I wake up from a night of drinking wine and eating poetry,
        groggy, confused with desire,
                and I am still thinking of your light.
This is the source of the ache in my chest.

The light from the Evening star in the dark blue of the early night
        Is razor sharp.
Many times a lover´s heart has been cut by this blade,
        the life flowing out and pooling ridiculously at his feet.
Yet the star remains unstained
By the rivers of hunger it causes to flow.

Just so,
        your face has been the devastation form me.
Yet you continue to shine in the dark evening sky
        glowing ever brighter,
                small smile flickering across your lips.

You are not to blame.
Your task is to be beautiful,
        and distant,
                and unattainable,
                        to claim the hearts of those who gaze upon you,
                                to wake them up in the middle of the night
                                        with a terrible thirst which will never be slaked.

My task is to walk through the dark streets
        Like a madman,
and sing praises to you in the deep blue sky
        until I wake the neighbors
                and they call the police.

I am to kiss your flawless reflection
        In the puddle at my own feet,
                and to sympathize with the poor birch trees
                        whose pale white arms stretch up to your impossible fire
each evening, so desperately, so joyfully