The first time I fell in love 

it was with the sky.


I gazed up past the moon

at a loss for words — 


I wonder if they know how gorgeous they are,

the stars


I almost hope they don’t.


I wonder if the stars ever feel stuck like I do.

I too want to be known for something more 

than being shiny.

I want to be known for burning,

having passion surpassing 10,000 degrees,

untouchable to anyone near me.


But I feel suspended in a picture frame.


I wonder if God put the stars there 

to remind us how tiny we are, 

how beautifully insignificant we are 

in the scheme of all things in existence.

I find this insignificance inspiring,

I don’t have to be so shiny. 



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