Dream of a Star

When unexplainable, a suffering sore
Would grip my soul within a hand of steel,
And, interrupting sobs that were no more,
My bloody verses rushed out, raw and real;

The bitterness of ecstasy's sharp pain,
The groans of poems I could not exhale,
I would entrust to my blue-eyed friend then –
The Seventh Star of Corona's holy veil.

One day, the taut green flame of clouds will bloom
And writhe above me in a swirling guise,
A phantom banner spelling out my doom,
And lure me on to where the endless lies.

And in that hour, when o'er my rebel name
The forest bows its crowns and makes a sound,
I'll smile into the freezing abyss's frame –
The Seventh Star where my own fate is bound.

Your sorrows, troubles, and your anxious fears,
Its piercing ray will cut and penetrate.
But if, on an unknown path, storm-clouds appear,
And seal for you a dark and heavy fate,

If rot-gaped jaws of graves begin to call,
And crows begin to caw with joyful cries –
Into your soul, new life will breathe through all
The Seventh Star of Corona's starry skies.

October 12, 1987