The night closes the windows

The night closes the windows, and The sky has become a crystal house, Shining crystal windows, The Moon Has sketched through them - Through the entire alabaster sanctuary. A single star was sending down A crystal cable, And passed its plough across the earth, Unearthing embraced bodies, Couples chained Around the round earth. Their speech clung everywhere, Through droplets of words, lost upon the earth - The same language that stars do not touch. And the crystal globe spun - And the coiled bodies with it. But the sky did not spin, Nor the majestic stars with it – They remain anchored, Each with its sword of light Plunged into the earth, Each bound to the immense plough That furrows our lives. So stands time, the eternal farmer, Stretching his seed of crystal through the darkness, Halving our dreams and years, With a hand that seems never to rest. We spectate, spectral, in this dust of life, Where love and fate share an embrace, Crying silently while the unyielding cosmos Continues to sing its cosmic ballad, moist with unseen tears. Oh, divine plough that overturns kingdoms and hearts alike, That breaks the midnight soil, turning love into a relic, Unleashing silent groans beneath the starry canvass - You build us and unravel us in the rhythm of a spinning sphere. Our pairings, our bondings, walk upon the giant orbit, Generating echoes that beat in the crystal silence of space, And slicing the infinite shadows with every furrow. Will the star continue to watch us, When we, at last, dissolve into the earthly evening's darkness?