Ah, how quickly do
Nights age & shatter - like old glass.
How short lived, the stars

A faulty start, I lost all my stars
Personally, I became a recluse
Truly afraid to be abuse.
Envious of some solemn luck,
            In love, I am an ugly duck.
I **** in many ways,
seems no one is able to stay.
                     Its okay.
Just pretend, as you did not hear
            Do not count me, as I am not here.
   Moreover, hide as if I did not know your there.
So do not love me as if you needed me
       Just love me sincerely
       Or else better don’t
       I am better alone - anyways….

the stars remind me of things
that they will never remind you of
you will look at the stars
and not think of anything but what they are
i will look at the stars and think of you
always
i will always look up at the stars
hoping that you are too
but within the stars i see you
i read them like braille
as they tell me our story
at the very least
the ones in our memories

stars falling
to a person looking from below
it’s beautiful
it’s hope
a shower of light
a chance to touch
something rare
keep it in your heart
but how does it look
from above?
like all of that hope
that love
burning up
in one final cry
to say i was here.

It's humbling to look
Up at the stars, the
Gorgeous night sky.
Humbling to think,
Someone revoling one of those stars
Is staring back at me.

As evolution jumped from eon to eon,
the foundational hunger to remain
surpassed all bounds this great celestial
has ever witnessed in its cosmic disturbance.
How must Mars and Jupiter, these stars in the sky
view the deep blue that flooded the desolate,
a clump of collected debris basking in the ultraviolet,
unable to resist the presence of life, ever-so unwanted
and needless to exist? For our neighbors in the sky,
glancing our way in their soulless façade,
they gossip to their peers about the news over here,
the autumnal shift from emerald to bronze,
willows who wept in the heat of summer days,
dandelions dotting the ridges of a rolling hillside,
at times dipping their toes in the whispering waters
of a backyard creek caressing the moss
atop smooth and shimmering stones.

From nothing you surged as entropy evermore,
and from everything you share your entities,
the very body you call your own, the breath
you maintain in this cyclical palindrome;
as mere extensions of the singularity’s core,
you find yourself in this position of awe,
gazing at the consequences never meant to be seen.






How fortunate we are to find ourselves here
in a sea of tumultuous chaos, conscious and
ever-so present in the discovery of knowledge.
To look to the past through a tubular lens
and remain unknowing of time’s present state,
the physical probabilities of potentials unforeseen
bending the rays of time to juxtapose new and old;
reality remains a pervasive illusion
evading the grasps of human cognition. Our
consciousness supersedes the premise of us all,
but our curiosity quivers in the breath of the
meaningless; how could something so rare
and inconceivable surmount to nothing more
than the imminent emergence of an empty abyss?
We must never misjudge the reign of the cosmos,
lose all hope that nothing awaits --
this I will not believe.  

From nothing I surged as entropy evermore,
and from everything I share my entities,
the very body I call my own, the breath
I maintain in this cyclical palindrome;
as mere extensions of the singularity’s core,
I find myself in this position of awe,
gazing at the consequences never meant to be seen.