Gift of a Star


The sun does not merely rise.
It beckons to me, enticing and sly.
Whomever I will grow to be on this day
it will not be the fault of the star
that shares with me, unwittingly,
the warmth of its fervor.
That which I choose is what will be chosen,
synchronistic or not.

What if I sang forever
just to find you?
Would the sounds scraped raw from my throat
let you know how much I care?
There are eternities filled
with my playing of charades
that you cannot surmise.

Whomever I come to be
I will not surrender.
for you, I will bend but not break,
give without taking,
cry but not weep.
For you, I would sell my eyes,
but never my heart.

©2011 Christopher Reilley

This poem is in the collection Breathing for Clouds, you can get a copy HERE.
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