the lonely star is signaling,
crying, calling out in the darkness.
we can see him so close to his brothers and sisters,
but he cannot see them.

is he blind? we ask;
we can hear him calling out,
see him twinkling frantically.

but what we cannot see
is the truth of it -- his loved ones
have gone out, a flickering flame,
exploded into silence.

my poor beloved burning star
is scared of the expanding darkness;
left with nought but his sister's clouded blanket.