The stars had it written for me
Lovingly wove the threads of delicate balance
In the space between my shoulder blades.
Child of Libra they whispered to me

Setting me down the river of cosmos.
How could they have known?
The exalted, the ever gentle
Heavens! How could they have known?

The child spills from her bursting seams.
Too big, too liquid for a body.
Her spine twists to make room and the balance
Shatters.

The stars go silent.
They watch this amalgamation
And what she seeks for--
Everything or nothing

A child of Libra who knows no balance
Cannot be a child of the stars at all.
I am left in a burning forest of frosts
Half-despaired and utterly manic

They should have known
I was never meant for balance.
That I had no right to gentle things
When I was born starving.

Intense--a star on the verge of dying.
They should have caged me
In the boundless Universe
Not this limited body

That I have maimed with just my desire alone.
If the Heavens are all-knowing then
They must have known that to be a child of Libra
Was the most fitting punishment for me.