The first time I fell in love 

it was with the sky.

 

I gazed up past the moon

at a loss for words — 

butterflies.

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.