Shuffles of papers of decks of cards

Rearrange, restage the stars.

“I like stars.”  Reception: laughter.

Reaction: befuddling inconsistency.

To like the universal finite, once far,

Once light, that shall and will be free

Is no “cute” remark nor sentiment.

No “adorable” or “innocent” words.

The fire that blazes black element

Becomes, is one, with beat swords.

Tha-thump, tha-thump, tha-thump

The verisimilitude of the heart-drum

Uncontained is free and fire, coal lumps

Black burning and blazing hot numb.

My smile is lighted by thanks of the stars

That regard and react with the no-oxygen.

Vacuumed by white’s polar contractor,

In a field, in a stage of cards and engine,

The fuel is the fire and the flame and the far

As the universe decrees: reshuffle the cards.

The 52 me’s are masks to be “better,”

2 for each alphabetical letter.

The “like” is a simple and profound combo

Of the cards and letters and masks found.

Complexity in the magnanimous of its flow,

For to acknowledge such is to that mine wound

Up insignificance, impotently empathized

By the fire of passion of stars that were.

Stars are circular masses of blazing lights

That beats back black until with night, concurred.

The beat is black and blue bruise

But also red of bloody hearts and fiery stars

And the colors reflect my 52 dues

To the social expects and demands to war

When the wishes of my innocent smiles,

In a suffocating world of wants,

Is to wish upon a star to become worthwhile

Than to be a burned-out star dawn.

Black-hole is my destined end card

But reshuffle, I do, to my like, life, and star.