Nightspeech

The spirit
of a man, or a woman
composes
improbabilities,
impossibilities,
and wishes
that they were so.
On my back in the grass
under Summer velvet,
nightspeech of stars
whispers:
the echo of ancient
prayers
cast to the gods
of long ago.
What did they seek,
supplicants
and sojourners:
love, peace, vengeance,
glory?  And
what did they find,
on the last, long road,
but
that all flesh is grass,
and that flesh is weak?

It is altogether weak.