Pining for the Breeze

When will the stars all realign,
Then down to me hurl their light?
And I, at last, no longer pine
For what is gone, no longer mine
Though ceaselessly I ask the night,
When will the stars all realign?
O’er golden forests, autumn’s wine,
As you appear within my sight
And I, at last, no longer pine
O’er all the bones that I enshrine
And stars divided by my spite…
When will the stars all realign?
Alight with joy, the diamonds shine
Then break upon your smile bright;
And I, at last, no longer pine
For ghost or breeze nor hope divine,
But still I wait, I wait polite…
When will the stars all realign
And I, at last, no longer pine.