If only our sun were a part
Of a bright globular cluster
Like M53, our night sky
Would glow like bejeweled chandeliers,
Like vast megalopolises
Hanging inverted, rotating
Gowns and draperies of diamonds
Descending to almost touch us.
But we’re not. We’re not, and we lack
The blue stragglers clusters feature,
Refreshed by matter falling in
From all those nearby companions.
It’s easier to be alone
When you can feed off of others,
More challenging when you’re dwindling
At the far end of a long arm,
Searching through too much dark for more.
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