Delirium

The words float by with a sharp autumnal gust of wind "you'll never win" The dreadful dedications to a long-gone era 'Gone with the wind' As I sit shivering from this cold that I have caught Among the millions of thigs that I could catch, For it I'm thankful. My mortal coil, so fragile and frail, So powerful and full of vigor. As the desert of the real stretches out before me The far horizon beckons with delirium I see a needle pierce the sky with tongues of fire "Another, gone to the stars" I think. I think some more. "When will the stars come to us?" I question softly in the face of the fading light. And there they are, fading into existence Like they had never left. Never had left me to die with the coming of the light AS if they didn't know that I need shade, Plenty of water, A loving, caring hand running through my hair, A whisper of "everything is going to be okay" Softly promised in the moonlight. As if they didn't know that their touch sustained me. As if they had forgot our conversations. As if they simply didn't care. My eyes turn back to the disappearing needle headed for the far reaches of space. Do they care? *Do* they care? Will they return, pulling together the fabric of my existence with