Maybe my eyes,
they were not accustomed,
not tuned to the night into which they stared.
I watched but only glimpsed the imaginary sparkles,
the nothing definites - the blinks of stars through veils
tiny lost satellites unfurling their wings
like moths breathing the glow.
Did I see them? Or was it just rushing blood,
rushing by? It matters not, I will never know.
The night felt fine and that,
was good enough.