THE CAPRICE OF STARS

An attempt at a Shakespearean sonnet

Those capricious stars they flitter about
Boasting of their high courses in the skies
They grow dim inside the night and hide out
Within constellations like butterflies.

We’ve attached our hopes to their lines of light
Keeping track of how they wander around
We repent and sin throughout the dark night
With guilt in our hearts for being earthbound.

If the stars were fixed would we know our way?
The brightest stars do live among men
Without squandering their souls away
Without getting so lost again and again.

The caprice of stars is just an illusion
We blame the heavens for our confusion.