Belinda Subraman Poems

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Eyes like stars sparkle and die
and cycle into new stars, new eyes.

The answer is outside our window.
Astronomers look
for the beginning
and find there is no end.

Down to earth
there are frozen lines,
winter trees,
stalled cars in dirty snow,
sorrow over endings.

The real world is through the window,
infinite, ageless.
Though a clear veil
keeps us distant,
the soul of what
we can never prove
keeps us close.

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