Constellations
most
don’t like you,
Night Sky. they fear
to be engulfed in your vast beauty. how obscure you are! while others
love to dance under the big hot sun, i love to lay under you
countless twinkling stars, each one a bright sun of its
own, somewhere far away. i love to connect the
scattered stars, and with just a few lines,
i can make your chaotic collection of humble mere stars
turn into my kismet, whatever it may be. i am not aware of the
insomnia any longer. my eyes, already encircled in purple, only see you,
your moon, so damaged, yet so bold. i see where men have stepped on it,
each individual crater a story that i want to be a part of. i know it needs
the sun to be able to be seen, but you do not need
it to be beautiful.
