You’re the moon
and I’m the sun,
chasing you around the world,
trying to touch you with light,
while you wish to be among the stars beside you
that steal your spotlight,
but I promise you,
stars burn out and only come out at night.

I too will burn out
and then I will fade
so I’ll be just like you,
a dense rock floating through nothingness
until we join a collapsing cloud of solar dust.

Since we’re both denser than gas,
we might become stars –
even the same one –
but that could take eternity
and the universe might have expanded by then
to the point where it’s too cold for stars.

I cannot calculate the probability of meeting you again,
but right now,
you’re right here
and I’m chasing you around the world,
trying to touch you with light.