Poles Apart

You, the North Star or Polaris;

always present, pinhole light that

inspired generations - anchored

without weight, mysteriously

staying and resisting the urge

to jump free from your moorings.

You question infinity and rule

over concepts. We share your secret

that by some fluke of time and space

coupled with the span of a monkey,

you are nothing but names. Invented.

Me, I work in the shadows

out of sight. Barely visible to the naked eye,

the South Star or Sigma Octantis

to people I’m likely to meet just the once.

Sometimes I might try to impress

by telling lies or ruining the plot. Mostly

I’m ordinary, wearing suits too big

and watching the glitter of everyone’s

life circle around me.