In stories, stars will light the path
to victory, grief’s aftermath
if only you would crane your head
and let your stubborn self be led
where Heaven wills — follow that trail
and you are destined ne’er to fail
nor fall: your spirit guarded still
should all of Hell besiege your will.
So says the myth — but where is fact?
for those who linger, still intact
but bleeding out, adrift in gray,
no stellar beacons point their way.
Are they to drift forever on
until all hope of light is gone?