evening star

[metaphorliteral]

The brightest stars aren't stars at all.
They're nothing you can set a compass by.
That's why when I follow you, I fall,
although you are the brightest point in my sky.
Still, there's delight in being led astray--
you're never going to lead me to my doom;
my faith in you takes me in a roundabout way,
but somehow I always make it back to my room.
I know I should forswear your radiance
and set my sights on the Northern Star--
but that would require common sense,
and you're more interesting by far.
So shine on, my brilliant, inconsistent guide.
Perhaps one day, I'll finally reach your side.