Now Listen

		Now listen!
		Surely if the stars are lit
		there's somebody who longs for them
		somebody who wants them to shine a bit
		somebody who calls it, that wee speck 
						   of spittle, gem?
		
		And overridden
		by blizzards of midday dust,
		tears into God,
		afraid that it's too late
		and sobbing
		kisses the hand outthrust,
		swears
		that he can't simply bear a starless
						   fate:
		there must be a star, there must!
		...then goes about anxious,
		through tranquil seeming,
		whispering to somebody,
		"You're better?
		Not afraid?
		All right?"
		Now listen
		it must be for somebody stars are set gleaming,
		somebody who longs
		that over the rooftops
		one star at least would come alight?