Fallen Stars of a Sky of Love

Chapter I: Fallen Stars of a Sky of Love

You are the wind in the trees and stars in the sky. You are the moon that glows to remind me of the night and the frost that finds its way to the tips of grass at dawn. Your presence is deafening, suffocating, and akin to being encased in a desperate warmth by the flames of a fireplace that lose control without care.

You come and go, like reminding me you exist only to leave me standing alone in rain that betrays my comfort just like you do my heart. The desire for hope seems foolish when the thought of you enters my mind as I seek the pious fog of a dream at night.

I cannot help but long for you, even yearn for you. Every day I am haunted by the reminder that I do not have you. Yet my soul calls your name, even though my mind does not know it.

I have daydreamed of you since I was old enough to know what you were. However, I have not met you. It is hard to know you are real when there have been no true perceptions of you in my lifetime.

I have read about you in works of history, philosophy, and fiction, wondering if there is a possibility you will remain a mere concept to me. There are shadows around the words I read on pages that tell me this will never be real, that you are not real.

I pale upon the realization that you are a figment of my imagination. You are a fantasy; a dream written to preserve human nature.

But what am I to you? Am I a pawn in your grand scheme? A jest in the court of your fictional game? What part do I play in my lifetime that fulfils the continuation of your existence?

Am I the only one awake in a room full of those asleep who dream about basking in your warmth? Am I simply condemned to walking amongst shadows whilst others run under the rays of your sun? Why is it that I drown in the waters of your inexistence, yet others have sat next to you ashore?

I drown alone, hands gripping my chest to lift my heavy heart that threatens to escape my body if you do not free it of the shackled weight you placed on it so long ago. I fall to my knees upon the ocean floor, reigning bruises from your torture, clawing for my heart that yearns for a sign of the key to the chains around my soul.

It is almost like I will never know what love is. What it feels like to be entranced by the existence of another, souls twisted to feign off the darkness of sin. And even so, what it would feel like to indulge in such sin.

I imagine it is pure, embellished in faint touch and low guarded eye flutters. It would be the faint drizzle of a winter morning, calling for the embrace of another. It would be trust, the exchange of strength, and an offer of emotional intimacy.

Society tells me love is common, but what I see is not love. What I see is a farce of reality used to breed aspiration and teach us about the illusion of permanence. Why should we believe love is so common if it is not? Why is it instead so common for society to be filled with deceit, duplicity, and deception?

And so, despite attempts to not be mourned as a living person any more than if I were dead, I cannot help but be like the shadows. They are cold, and I was never one for the riddled activity of summer.

I was always one to look up to the sky and wonder if the angels sang praises amongst their brightest stars, asking myself if they had beating hearts that yearned quietly in the same way I did. I could not gaze upon fallen stars though, for they reminded me that they did not have the strength to hold themselves up in the sky. And how could I feel love if I were viewed only as a fallen star?