You are
so full of light.

The ones
that fail to see
your sparkle can close
their eyes.

The stars are tears
shed by the Universe,
as it yearns for an ounce of solace
in the vast, empty place above
where it's accustomed to survive,

Despite an obscure reluctance
we've all grown too familiar with--
burden heavy on its shoulders,

In spite of young children
wishing upon it every time the moon ascends,
revealing its ephemeral, yet foolish glow.

Perhaps, the one sole star
that we wished upon as kids,
wasn't ever about the glowing speck
in the seemingly endless sky above.

All it took
were a few wakeful nights,
to realize--
it was, and always had been,
you.

To be there under the shade of lemon trees
where my fingers can dig into the terracotta earth
or to be here, where cold nips at my skin
in summer and the spring, little hints of winter
always alive and well, in every greeting and farewell
I am, as you can see, often divided
between oceans and places, sometimes in the same room
I am divided between corners and angles
where I can have the best view
where I can hear the most and feel the least
where I can see the perfect way the sun dances
into our space around noon,
when it hits the glass just right
and divides, into colors, into blooming flowers
no matter the season, no matter the year  
I divided, shuffle around as if I were a photographer
Searching for the angle where it hits your face,
coming to light
coming to life

They flutter about in the deep dark night
sputtering on, with a bright firelight might
Butterfly sized, with wreathed shining crescents
The only word breathed is, "effervescence”

Their flowing glowing streaks against the dark stark black
While the old stale pale moon beams strong against my back
These little white spheres, of magical energy
lapse my mind of momentary memory
I cannot move, for my movements are crude
and the fear that they'll disappear, is suddenly cued
They are kind and wise, I find I have been mystified
sitting crystallized and innocently petrified

Fickle, free floating dancers, in my quaint little kitchen
Reveals peaceful little answers poured from false fiction

"Playful" I whisper from afar, that's what they are
The purest, clearest energy that's escaped the stars
They brazenly bounce and bob about
reflecting off of my glazen glass jars

Can I love them, without knowing, what or how?
Can I exist forever in this glowing, here and now?
What could they want? Where do they go?
Tantalizing taunts, I grow old in their glow.