Is Someone Looking At Me?
No doubt I died a mocking age ago
Bent on magnificence, as all men are.
A silly project, killing, like the slow
Blinding labor of light from a distant star
That, now you see it, has been dead for ages.
Though something's come of me, if hours allow
A sign of light to flash across these pages,
Eons have died of laughter, thinking how
My astral ghost arrives -- and where am I?
Projected in the solitary night
These long-sent lines may some day strike your eye:
then go spear-blind, tear-blind with laughter and light
To think my humorous star has spent its stores
To say, dying of brilliance, So will yours.
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