The Way To Touch A Star



A poem about perception



Not knowing, is the way to touch a star.

Small and half empty you can believe

that across the field and up the hill

you could hold that white light

in cupped hands and believing that,

you never need to go there.

Never need to really try and touch it.


Taller and full of concepts you know

on top of the highest of high places,

even on a ladder, on a tower there

your hand would only shrivel

in cold and empty air and the stars

would seem further from you.

Worse, you know they most likely died

before our fingers learnt to point.



Tony Noon

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