Constellation Kaleidoscope

The world is a kaleidoscope
and I'm peering through
with one squinted eye.
I hold it tightly
with just one hand
and I see stars.

All I see are stars
and they form a kaleidoscope.
They're right in my hand,
but they're slipping through.
I grasp on tightly,
but they've escaped my eye.

I've blinded my one eye.
I no longer see stars.
I keep holding on tightly,
but this endless kaleidoscope
is not what is seen through,
but what is held in my hand.

In the palm of my hand
is the bluest stray eye
which gazes right through
this constellation of stars.
Beauty in this kaleidoscope
is rarely held onto tightly

and in my heart, tightly
it holds a place. Her hand
takes apart this kaleidoscope
and captures my eye
which cannot see the stars.
Her love pierces through.

All that is seen through,
all that is not held tightly,
is hostage to our stars
and cuts into our hand
as it coils our eye
and dyes our kaleidoscope

black. A black kaleidoscope through
the bluest eye, shut tightly,
is not in our hand, but with our stars.