I hope if the stars are laughing at us it is gently, gently, because they know everything will turn out all right in the end and this was all all all a twisting turning cliff-tumbled footpath to that final sweetness. I hope if the stars are laughing at us it is gently, gently, because we are so young and tired and wild and so afraid that the world is ending and they have watched the word’s heartbeat stutter and steady and stutter and steady and it would take more than this to shake such ancient bones. I hope if the stars are laughing at us it is gently, gently, because oh, I cannot bear anything else, but they sing a tapestry older then pain and younger then righteousness and surely they have watched long enough to begin to understand what it is to hurt and cry and love and try. I hope if the stars are laughing it is gently, gently, gently.
If the moon can bleed, the stars can laugh,
and cry – the angels’ gems fixed to the sky,
Guarded and guided in eternity’s realm,
Have seen the nations crumbling down,
And down we’ve gone for ages unknown,
But up they rise o’er the race in its flight,
And flicker out hope in the midst of each night.
Ah- can laugh, and cry–
white-hot tears that scar the sky
shed for those who learned to die
shed by those who cannot lie
blazing, bright-hot, falling high.
Weeping for Death, for living Truth,
They suffer but slowly and trails of tears –
One in a million come to our sight,
Searing the dome of the earth,
Only to those who watch heaven at night.