On the very rare occasions that night falls

The blanket of Noir that bleeds across the hollowed sky

The clouds either muted or dispersed as they give way to the true wonder that we often take for granted

This I dedicated to the array of white specs burning hundreds of miles away, who I hope look down on me with discontent or doubt.

As a child, the concepts of stars always came down to another object I would either learn about or come obsess over due to their beauty as a whole.

But now

I fear them

I fear their existence, which threatens to contradict mine the more I ponder.

When a star ceases to exist, It goes out with an array of colour, chaos and destruction, calling attention to all to witness its final act of ethereal beauty before...

Silence

That there in all its glory is my true cause for distress

A star's story is preordained

Written

Set in stone

Yet I am left to sit and wait, questioning the reason and purpose for my being on this massive sphere

While in itself a minuscule dot is given no choice but bow to the vast majesty of the Universe.

It mocks me...

The inability to perceive, decipher, rationalize
Yet the ability to Exist and choose Existence Alone.
Never plagued by the fear of the unknown

I loathe

I Envy

I Wish to be