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Oh, silent celestial evening sphere Whose hook is your own heart, Distant longing and looking near, Injured by longest inches apart,

What bright eyes and silken voice Compels kings imprisoned by own choice? Was it that cruelest soulful dearth To have Heaven's gem tethered to Earth?

At times like these, I have a thought As you hover 'bove the lake, "Do we endure for endurance sake Or is there nothing that casts the lot?"

Why can't the heart be told where to land? Doesn't it know rocks near oceans always turn to sand? Yet still insists on where to go Yet has no proof for it to show.

Still, you are in blesséd fate To be in hurtful love, Rather than in happy hate. Stand high among heroes in the stars above.