risingandsinkingandrisingandsinkingand
for every one there are
tentwentyfivehundredandseven
neverweres
the ones left on street corners
as blue streaks away receding behind their retinas
the ones left over
the ones who glance up every now and then
and curse such silly mental caprices
the could-have-been
second-most important women in the universe
forging out a little adventure on their own
in blue skies all too empty
but within the cloud of clear obscurity
a darker blue flash burns the sky
and in its imperceptible heart
they remain all of them
they never know, but she does-
the unhurried traveller-
who decides and supports and runs and falls every minute
with an urge surpassing even theirs-
and she remembers them
with every invisible flicker-flash
that makes up her steady gleam
and moves on