Picture: Los Alamos National Laboratory
As dark nights prevail and stars
make you ordinary, you will yearn
whilst you struggle outside of me,
caught up in heaving times
pressed close to chest.
I am made up of hundreds
and you knew who I was –
till I married him –
worship me still
amid cold comforts lost –
pray, come back inside,
leave naivety at the door
lest you succumb, but beckon it not.