Sonnet the Third

If I could change the sprawling heavens’ face
or lend a thread unto the fated three,
I’d weave new stars into the night’s embrace,
and happ’ly knit together thee and me.
If I could rend this ever turning sphere,
collapse it like a ship within a jar,
I’d build a bridge between our “there” and “here”,
and be forever near to where you are.
How lucky is the newborn morning sky
to be within your eyes when you awake-
how lucky too the spreading stars on high
to hear your prayer, as prayers’ effect you take.
For though in these same skies, the same stars rule
they are not mine- ‘tis I that am their fool.

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