The Countless Suns

Emma stargazer, in your backyard, looking up at the sky.
The countless suns and the endless worlds, the infinite dark.
Angels might reside in those far off worlds, a desperate paradise.
Maybe a better world, where we will not know the death of innocence.
 A sorrowful aria in your headphones, a high call for solace in lost love.
A dream of a lover who left, a memory spoiled with his unkind words.
If you walked the ancient cities, the desolate crimson plains, silver skies,
the memory would fade in all the wonder, all the miracles of the universe.
 To lay down on the cool grass, and look up into the stars, to just drift
as a sleep, perhaps enchanted, brought by weeping, sympathetic fey,
to those wonders long dreamed of, alone in the night, alone in the sky.
A dream of the worlds that offer all the miracles, and none of the bitterness.

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