Poetry – Star – John Phillips

Star

A rising star, she rose that morning;

Thinking, dreaming, loving, planning,

Never knowing.

 

And did he rise,

Victim of twisted, serpent, mind?

Or guilty of some strange intent?

 

Are we just travellers,

Of dark, uncertain roads

Which lead to no-where?

 

Or part of an eternal plan

Which promises tomorrow?

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