Skolar shot three stars
into the celestial nothingness
in which he was harnessed.
Every night he charioted higher
hoping to touch the heavens.

Once reaching the maximum ascent
Skolar would whip and beat those
bright luminous wisps
pushing them a bit further.

Every night two stars would perish
and their remains would float
gently down forming the lands
and gardens of life.

One star would remain in the sky
sitting at its highest peaked achieved
in its skyward journey
every night a new star would shine.

One night one shined bright
beside me
we fell in love
and created an asterism.

We birthed more and more
little stars
a constellation telling our history
the people below
worshiped and gave us meaning.

Until I became volatile
spinning out of control
exploded leaving a black hole
taking that now old world
and you into the celestial abyss.

Skolar has moved on
creating new worlds
while history repeats
for infinity.