• As the stars hang above us
    Do they remember our innocence?
    The first time our small eyes looked up at them in wonder?
    The way we gazed into the heavens at the tiny pinpricks of infinite light and tried to wrap our minds around the magic of existence.
    Or the way our mouths formed little ohs of awe as our parents explained that every tiny glowing dot that hung in that huge blanket of velvety black was actually just like the sun that rises every morning.
    Did they laugh at us in some cosmic way?
    Do they know how their very appearance can make even the largest of us feel insignificantly small?
    And as we grow older, do the stars watch our progress as we watch theirs?
    Do they hold memories of our nights spent under them like delicate glass as we do?
    Something that if forgotten, will shatter into a multitude of lost fragments.
    Do they understand courtship and the feeling of comfort we garner by laying with lovers beneath their uncountable flickering forms.
    How connecting with one single human makes us feel stronger against their humbling presence.
    Or does the weight of their own loneliness encompass them with jealousy? To burn so brightly, to be such a strong beacon to others of your own kind but never be allowed to touch. To be seperated by millions of miles of emptiness.
    And when we make mistakes, when we fall, do the stars understand?
    Do they look down on us in pity?
    Shouldn't they? Because even the stars fall sometimes.