The word-gatherer wanders through the night Searching the ground for fallen stars to find “Look, see, they scatter and fall without end, Though few will dazzle with radiant light.” A couple passing close goes on their way— “Beggar fool,” the man spits out in disdain. “No, just a dreamer, nothing more than that,” The woman whispers softly to the man. “Whatever they may say, I never mind— For words are mostly trifles of that kind, Most worth no more than garbage left behind.” The word-gatherer wanders through the night, Still holding faith that somewhere it must be: “I’ll cast the star-shards back into the night.”
