[of dreams and galaxies]

[ To Our History]

The glowing orbs in your eyes are the moon not the stars, we are breathing the same air as aphrodite or maybe Athena, but we look at the sky and all we see is broken clouds / beautiful /we call it / beautiful / we call the hearts of those filled with kindness / so much so it oozes out of them like a broken canal / but still we stare because it's easy because the sky lures is into its brokenness and tells us tales of people with broken hearts /of people with smiles /of people with kindness / of everything left forgotten in the history / of everything that was too small for it to be history. So we stare at the sky and make silent wishes /not to the sky but to our hearts /to our kindness / to our history / because we make it / the history I mean because it might be too short to be history but the sky will remember it /in it's broken clouds / in its once in a while rain /but will remember nonetheless