Why do we look at the Bulb in the sky?

A single dot lighting up the grim night.

Of the many People stronger than I

Few compare to the orange, blue, or white.

The light illuminates its slender face

And I’m drawn to it like a summer moth.

But its only a Rock abandoned in space.

Always imitated by paint or cloth.

Complimenting endless strings of street lamps,

leading me through a harsh and dark highway.

It calls out to me, ringing like an amp,

disregarding all that I have to say.

We don’t have to be real under the moon.

Reserve the right to always end too soon.