If stars line up,
we'll meet again;
beneath the sacred moon
or maybe in the shadows,
of ancient trees and clouds.
What calls for this needless occasion,
you might inquire with dispassion?
The motive is preposterous —
to seek the logic or the cause
or ask the question why.
Too many stars have died and
suns eclipsed the lifeless skies.
It is irrelevant to know the reason;
but the intent, if you may ask,
is to retrace the soul that once was mine.
— by Yelena Anter