They live with the stars like paparazzi, 
Courting the glitters, clutters, and flatterers of gold. 
Those who worshipped the fame and shame, 
will never discover this star of mine. 

This star shone, out of the corner of your eyes, 
with the modesty that radiates shards of lights, 
kindling the melting points of our numb souls. 


This star whose idea lingers like morning tea, 
winding down the esophagus of crude languages. 


This star whose belief flares the hard reality, 
filters out the saturation of the winter's beauty. 

This star whose faith remains like coming spring, 
brandishing the joy and wisdom we failed to see. 

This star is dull, never recognized 
by the prestige of science and illiteracy of popularity. 

This star trusts strayed ideals,
an outcast among the crowd. 
a talent to behold, 
a legend never told, 
a moral never sold.