This certain sign that
we are losing our way
it comes in whispers
in certain sighs
and all the time I’m aching
to guess just what it is
I’m aching for

These days flip-flop
and sometimes we forget
we’re shooting stars
and always in the debt
of breath
of body
of will

Shining dark
in starry skies
we fly
Cloud bursts
Fantastical light
dazzling all who care
to be blinded

oh, how we ache
to guess just what it is
we’re aching for

[this is the first poem I’ve written using dictation software, a couple of errors and it’s weird speaking to my computer]