Halcyon

unwritten star

fingers crossed, thudding heart,
days passed before the heavens spoke,
was my life going to be specked with stardust,
or just bathed with silver starlight?
i'd take anything, just-
just that, oh, it was neither.

the prophecy read out loud and clear,
there would be a zillion constellations
penned in the bright, brilliant skies,
just that, just that, oh,
i'd be part of nada.
even if i were at the zenith or nadir,
i was destined to be astray in the
cosmic underflow.

that's cosmically okay, i gleamed,
maybe i was predestined to be
the stunning sun,
so who cares if their stars hold hands
and mine trembles alone?
i am still the most brilliant
person in the firmament, and
i could still watch the aurora lights
from the comfort of the night vault.

but, my, came the cosmic silence,
and the photon trails left by the other stars.
then came the event horizon,
accompanied by the stellar wind,
i got pierced by the cosmic rays.

oh, i see the celestial sphere
bedecked by the deceptive aether.
why does happiness suddenly
seem to be millions of light-years away?
a wanderer orbiting nothing but silence,
a nebula waiting for a shape to believe in.
did the lord make the universe so beautiful
and forget to give me a twin star?
gravity keeps me grounded
but, oh, so never close.

the sky draws lines between everyone,
but why not me, why am i the unlucky one?
watching constellations form so easily
while i stay lost in the space.
the moon is a friend to everyone else,
but she decks her invisible robe
when i reach her side.
icarus burned for wanting;
i only smoulder quietly.

we all are under the same sky,
yet i am the only one star-crossed.
i want to be someone's chosen star,
aching for a sky where i am not the lone light.
i beseech for a spark
across the cosmic dark,
hoping for a gravitational pull
i can call mine.

comets come and go, but,
they fade before i greet them.
oh, look at that silly north star,
she stands still for others;
who stands still for me?
i pray i get an answer.

but, dear, the stars are written,
can they be rewritten?
my heart endures its everyday supernova;
at least i get to be the galaxy's muse.
one fine blue hour, i will fade,
turning to a white dwarf.
all the stars might learn my existence then,
or they simply might not care.