Haunted souls travel inked skies at night
drawing their trajectories among constellations.
With soles dipped in stardust
they tread through the heavens
searching for God; searching for rest.
Some thoughts have clung to their skin
words stained with regret beat them down
walls of hope, crushed to rubble
a city of dreams had once existed within.
When you see a shooting star tonight,
remember that it is a star that is dead
carrying the lost to somewhere far away
an afterlife with meaning.
At the end of October,
the month of warmth before the ice,
the angels will donate a star to every soul
who cannot escape their haunted insides
a twinkle of light
in an otherwise eternity of darkness.