Day 8: Endings

Day 8:

Solar Eclipse

We were never meant to meet.

All those longing looks cast 

across dawn and dusk skies;

oh the light we made.

Every star a poem for you,

scattered map of love.

And you, turning the horizon aflame, 

heart sending out a flare,

gold furnace of desire.

Is this the closest we get?

April evening, pink blush on my face, 

Venus in the wings.

One blink and darkness winks.

I close my eyes: it seems

we almost touch -

silver and gold 

monumental moment

dissolving

into

translucence.

Sun-blindness 

is a real thing.

As for the moon? You knew

I was half mirage, a shimmering dissonance

of dream and romance. 

We can't ever meet.

The astrophysical axis

commands it so. In other words, Fate.

Too many shadows.

Too much afterglow.