Where do the stars go?
When the bright colors of the sunrise dawn a new day, vibrant pinks, oranges, reds, and yellows, we are so captivated by newness that we allow the previously existing to slip quietly away.
We’re always had a love affair with the moon. Beautiful, mysterious, and far away la Luna fills our eyes with a white wonder and reflects our souls back to us.
The moon may act like the mysterious love, but the stars are our unrequited love. They rise, full of hope and expectation every night, waiting for us to notice them. They group into loveable shapes and patterns for our amusement and dance in our eyes.
“Seeing stars,” they say. “I see stars when I think of you.”
In reality, the stars are huge, hot, spinning, burning a distance so great that we cannot even begin to comprehend. They want to stay, always, to play and dance and delight, but the eager sun, in all its confidence and glory, takes center stage, shooing the stars away.
Stars are not petty things; after all, they chose to stay with us when all is dark and lonely and quiet, why do they cease to exist to us during the day? Once again, the sun, with its constant assurance in warmth overpowers, takes center stage, and we forget for a few hours.
But the darkness lasts longer that the light, and once the sun sets, the lights flicker once, twice, three times, then remain on.
Always.
YOU ARE READING
1 AM- A Collection of Poems
Poetry[Random Updates] But why would we sleep anyway, when we have a world to explore and stars to entertain us? Copyright © 2013 by madmoisellebelle. Unless otherwise indicated, all materials on these pages are copyrighted by madmoisellebelle. All right...
