Everything is fine until it isn't.
Stars wheel in the sky, then turn back upon themselves
as we have, deaf dancers to music with too many sharps.
Gazing at constellations,
no one sets out to disarrange them.
Most of us aren't cruel by nature, don't dark our own world,
we just forget to tend the light, like distracted keepers
who look up and lose hope,
the shore obscured,
the hour too late,
the storm already arrived where no soft word
or brave promise can stop it.
for Dverse "Dancing Queen"