The evening star, that is not a star,
comes out, but was there all the time,
over the sunset, that is really
the earth's turning;
and this is what we wish on:
may things be what they are not,
may blessings uncover themselves,
may we be restored to our rightful place
in the center of things,
the sky inflamed with our desires,
crowded with messengers
anxious to carry them out.
Robin Shectman.
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