Stargazing

One day when I was eight years old, I had watched the mystery unfold, 

about the Orion and scorpion was I told, and the tale of Hercules the bold. 

I would've known all their stories, add to it the myths and the histories, 

the good brave heroes and their glories, my wave of thought knew where my shore is.

Eight years later I was sixteen, deeply enchanted by my own sheen, 

I looked always into mirrors clean, never at skies where stars were seen. 

Inspired by heroic tales from eight, I would fake my accent and limp my gait, 

through the selfish waters of Ego strait, I tried to swim to joy islands straight.

Eight years later call it yesterday, I searched for the stars' hopeful ray, 

the busy city shone across my way, polluted was my sky around where I stay. 

The drifting clouds were on fire, kindling the great Ursa's pyre, 

I forgot the skies of my shire, add to it the tales I sang on the lyre.

Oh, a surprise had come to me now, from far off lands as a unbroken vow, 

putting off every light on the row, like a balloon by a stretched bow. 

I see the stars and skies again, I sing in joy and I weep in pain, 

joy that the good I do didn't go in vain, pain that the bitter truth is just too plain.

Clouded by egos and pursuits endless, not caring or trying to get out of the mess, 

we forget the root causes of our happiness, we know the answers but we only guess.