I want to tell the stars that I'm sorry.
I'm sorry for the nights I couldn't see.
The nights they couldn't see me.
Jealous clouds often hiding their beauty.
I'm sorry for the nights I stared,
but only for their looks.
Many astronomers have put down in books
of the power held within them.
Yet I often neglet to admit the light they've given.
I want to apologize to make things right.
It is with the sky itself I've picked a fight.
The fight of perception.
I am losing horribly despite my deception.
You see it's a beauty of a canvas you can't touch.
Ever changing and in no rush.
Infinite and effortless.
Like a peace without a need to practice.
I have to tell them that I'm sorry.
Because when I look up at the night's array.
I dismiss their infinite power
and their existence all together, but only during the day.
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