I’ve been thinking about the stars, those big balls of fission,
And how saddening it must be,
To be so powerful yet so obsolete,
To be unaware that somewhere the atoms once spewed by thee,
Gave rise to conscious ants,
Capable of comprehending what and where it is they are,
Creatures that feel and whose presence are felt back,
But why do they stare at you as if a god,
Yet overlook one’s inadequacies?
I’ve been thinking about the beating heart,
And how beautiful it must be to hear it drum, as you look her in the eyes,
Before the watchful eyes of the setting sun,
Forgetful of the time dictated by our ever persistent motion,
How I wonder,
Do the stars never love and feel the rush, of what it means to exist,
In a Universe of uncertainty?
It must be beautiful,
When two stars meet and dance to the laws of gravity,
To live with the thought of her even if for a tiny moment, than a billion years without,
It must be beautiful,
To be conscious- even if a persistent illusion,
To fear and overcome, to lose and to trust,
To hear the fat lady sing at the moment that’s your last,
And in finality say to thyself,
The stars never felt this.
By: K3ysp3rk©
Wow
Thanks