A Tale from the Stars

An attempt at terza rima, which ended up blobbing into some weird semblance of one near the end. Whoops.

she said she traced the stars last night
and found a tale that told her of
someone who chose to lose their sight.

their wont to see was not as loved
as touch, or smell, or taste, or sound;
and thought not of the stars above.

she said they thought it best and found
that much of life is not through eyes,
but heart and soul, not simply bound

to a glance or beautiful lies,
that out of sight meant out of mind;
and thought not of the midnight skies.

they loved the fact that they were blind
for life was easy when it's dark --
until the day the stars aligned

infatuation made its spark,
the only light that they could see,
the wants of the heart made its mark.

to love this person, they agreed,
was something special and priceless
she said, "and yet not meant to be"

"to love someone," she had stressed
"was to see them for all they were
they gave up sight with which they're blessed"

I said, "they're foolish, that I'm sure,
to choose to blind themselves like that,
to ruin chances for something so pure."

"my friend, you're blind," she had spat.
"this person is you, know you not?
you turned your eyes, and this begat

your folly to search what can't be sought
for foolish is they that spurn away
against a truth, which you forgot."

"what truth is that?" I asked, dismayed.
she said, "they love you, so blind to love
you thought not of the stars above."

she left me then, confused.
and then I remembered,
it was her I refused.


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