“La lumière des étoiles d'ambre…”

Written by: William Ward

For years I had desired to 
write a thing of beauty, 
yet beauty, as always, escaped me… 
for beauty as I found through 
experience and misery, 
is merely the plaything of the beautiful: 
the acrimonious agent 
of their delicate deceit,
invoked:
“La lumière des étoiles d'ambre…”
unattainable to all, reluctantly fey, 
betrayed by our delusion 
and indefinable inertia,
invoked:
“La lumière des étoiles d'ambre…”