ON A STARRY NIGHT (After Li Po)                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               
 
At night, the stars offer promise,
but they remain aloft,
in an impenetrable sky.
The moon is an eye,
which neither blinks
nor laughs nor cries.
Nothing is what it seems.
I’m fifty-five. Lies
no longer comfort me.
I’ve learned little
from the things I’ve seen.
I look at those distant stars,
but there’s no star
that can tell me
what anything means.

George Freek‘s poetry appears in numerous Journals and Reviews. His poem “Written At Blue Lake” was recently nominated for a Pushcart Prize. His collection “Melancholia” is published by Red Wolf Editions.