it does not take a special algebra
to spot a shooting star..
one merely has to turn their gaze aloft..
and in the highest heavens up above
they’ll see the silent messenger of love
ignite.
so very far..
yet so very bright..
and yet his brilliance is visible
only upon the darkest hour of the night..
when it is not so hopelessly outshined
by blinding daylight.

whether they know it or they don’t..
the ones who see him are entangled..
and thus by indirect association..
they are kindred souls.
they are the many scattered pieces
of an intercorrelated whole
that fills the vacuum space.
that hears The Devil’s whispers..
that accepts his wicked ways.
that finds its purest joy in love creation..
that seeks its truest wisdom
in his ritual of self-annihilation.

they wish upon him..
they bear witness
to their deepest wishes coming true..
and as for those who wish it all away..
there is the gift of freely given silence..
and all the many truths it has to teach us..
and all the many words of love it has to say.