I held you up against the sky,
Believing that you could surpass the stars,
Never once fathoming that my heavenly contender
could burn out just the same.

Even all of the stars and sun and moon
Cannot be seen both day and night
And I’ve been trying to figure out
which you are: my sun or my moon.

I tried to make you both,
But you are neither.

You are human.

I have lived my whole life
just supposing that I was nothing more
than wasted youth wasting time,
Standing here on planet earth
beckoning to the stars.

“What do you want from me?”
“Nothing,” the Universe always answered.

Nothing.

And so it appeared to me
that I just was sitting here alone in the cosmos,
tracing constellations to pass the time.

Somehow I failed to realize
How lucky I am to be anything at all.

Our very existence, in itself, is glorious.

And here we are,
a small part in this mess of madness.
Do not waste a precious second – sing out.

You, too, are a prophet.

Let your wisdom reach out
to the corners of the galaxies,
So that the echoes may bounce back
to the very spot you stand right now.

Make something of yourself

so that one day
you may join the stars
just to shine a little brighter
when a lost soul is right here
beckoning for you.