De-Vagrant

The fog at last has lifted, And gifts me with puerile sterile light. The stars at night all sifted, Through ebony and sable.  Slight Then are the glimpses of pinpricks that cut so sharp, Little reminders of who and what and where we are. The fog at last it dissipates And stars they start to fabricate, Light so bright it shears my sides With spikes and shards like pulling tides Why gift me then with sight of day? Why give me light and take breath away? The stars they shine unending down, Strange to think their light has ended now. Yet still we can see it right here, And in our lives we can revere, Small and blinking beautiful things, Like je