By Oliver Tearle

We are not seen together during the day,
keeping our distance, as one must. We do

nothing we should not, at least since centuries back.
Such an alignment is best kept for the dark.

Once in a full blue moon we venture to do this.
Remember the last time we did so at Christmas?

Our star shone brightly, leading them the way.
A cold coming-together we had of it. We

knew our union was a sign of something.
We are the biggest in our universe, colliding

closer, a finger at arm’s length sufficing
to cover the negligible gap remaining.

Of course, we know some space remains between.
It does not matter. We are us. We are one.

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