On some of the bleakest of nights, when I have too much time to think and too many thoughts to process, I will sit in my room with the lights off once everyone else in the house has gone to sleep. Occasionally, I'll be so tired that my efforts to stay awake and mull things over in my head will be feeble ones. However, there are other times when my mind is so loud, or so silent, or so echoic, that it will prevent me from being able to sleep. On these awfully dismal, dolorous, woebegone nights, I will be by the window, knowing that I can have light whenever I please, yet still trying to pick out spots of light elsewhere. I should remember that I need only flip a switch.
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PoésieThis is a collection of poetry and prose about stars, love and the like. It is a glimpse inside my mind and a full view of my soul. My thoughts are like celestial dust: quite useless on their own, but once they come together, create a star that give...
