Time tends to pass as planets spin
On toward the darkest night.
Caring not what future brings
Or what the past has been.
Upon a hill in some gossamer dream,
Nocturnal Gazer counts the stars
To seek what future to foretell.
The task is hard.
He sits alone
Entering numbers in a papyrus book.
Still he sits
Till he becomes one with stone upon that hill.
Around him spin the stars at night
Revealing nothing of the time to come;
Silly man.
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