Falling Star (Poetry)

Out here, far from the city's neon glare,
the night's more nearly black with stars that pierce
defenceless cloud, the arrow-punctured air
hangs quivering with countless shards of light
that glitter, by their chilly nature fierce
and quite indifferent to the heart's sad plight.

I can't pick out the one I wished upon,
bedazzled by its pure, unrivalled glow,
entranced by love's mythology that shone -
reflected beauty, bold but counterfeit,
untouched and so untouchable - I know
the measure of its far-removed deceit.

Unmoved by weeping, perfectly aloof -
no sorrow mirrored in your handsome face -
you left me nothing but the keen-edged truth,
knifing inwards, cut right to the core
all faith in romance, sliced away each trace
of starry-eyed illusion dreamed before.

Tonight I scan the skies, remembering
how once these constellations seemed so clear,
their science a celestial coupling
of omens linked to each new falling star -
such portents claimed by druid priest and seer -
I search for signs and wonder where you are.