Oh, look, there is my Superstar tonight in this moonlight.
So bright it is. Spotless.
I love to watch it up there, dancing with sisters on sky-square.
And brothers. And lovers.
The night seems somehow qurious, are those the diamants? Luxurious?
No, they are Tanzanits. Unreachables.
The show they are showing, brillianting, glowing, sky-snowing.
Entertainers. Priceless.
I feel like being a zookeeper, watching and peting them. Nonsleeper.
With my eyes. In my palms.
My own ZOO. My Animals. All Furry. Love them like eggs with some curry.
The fluffy Furrys. The noiseless Purrys.
Dancing my good-night story, avare of their neverending glory.
For pirates, for kids and for poets.
And me. I am festing my soul. On them. When bathing in salt-water-bowl.
Little star animals. Non-extincters.
By night They will be there forever. Near the shore. Without me, whenever
myself extincts. Animal instincts.
And when this will happen to me, only vain armor of me will be
there left. In Waits. To be dusts.