Lying awake with the night sky 
on your mind,
a violet shelf of trophies 
you will never quite grasp.

Working the darkest seams 
until they give scant fuel;
playing the hardest games
until the least prize falls 
into your hands; 

you say
hey, it’s a living.
You say that
as often as you can.

Lying awake under
the dream sky you thought was 
just beyond your fingertips.
They told you that
so many times
that more than once
you thought
you’d brushed against it
more than once.

It felt like either heaven
or cobwebs. Hard
to say at the time

but now you know.

Lying there
under that sky
you can’t reach
that won’t redden for dawn 
or turn white for full day
and the stars you longed for
look like needles in your eyes
and the deep Blue looks like 
shrouds and you know
none of it 
was ever really for you.