1.
The blood of Caesar and of Ptolemy
flowed in his veins: a shy and scholarly
Starwatcher (so they called him, with respect;
he whom Mark Antony died to protect).
2.
Years later, his Judaean lover lost
her passion for him at a spiritual cost
each of them suffered, as she wryly chose
(like pearls to swine) the mincing wind that blows
threescore and ten. The Starwatcher still clung
to hope (by prophet and by poet sung
in books---Isaiah, Vergil---on his shelf):
a King of Kings expected (not himself).
3.
In Bethlehem, his journey's destiny
concluded his devout astronomy.
The comment immediately
above from the smiles lady
or whatever she calls herself
these here days
is about as shallow
and meaningless as any
I have ever received,
and if I were a betting man,
I would bet a dollar to a donut
that having read this poem
that she praises so superlatively,
she has not the first clue
as to what it is really about.
I will keep her comment here
only for the amusement it affords
and for some measure
of what shallowness is all about.
Coerulescent
incredible
wORK
ON THIS POEM
ILOVED IT
JUST SO WONDERFULL
test of e-mail
Coerulescent
This one also fits well here what a delicately written peice. Rae