I tried to explain the concept of stars
to a three-year-old, who couldn’t quite fathom
why we loved what we did.

He held onto his stuffed rabbit and asked
‘what are those lights in the sky’, with wide eyes
and a genuine interest in human nature.

I explained to him that they were stars, and
when he asked what that meant, I said
‘they’re just ***** of gas, light, and hope’

and these vast spheres of gas and light
and hope, govern us. Tyrannize our tiny
existence with their somewhat larger indulgence.

How we worship supernovas and eclipses, how
we wish on things that merely embellish the moon;
that glow. How we loved to watch things, and pretend

that they were of some sort of importance. We could
spend whole nights lying on our backs with lovers
watching still shots of the void. Figments of imagination.

I tried to explain the concept of stars
to a three-year-old, who couldn’t quite fathom
why we loved what we did.

And unfortunately, neither could I.

I feel like a toddler
Teetering and tottering as I take my first brave steps
Into the unknown.
We often fear what we do not understand,
But I think that instead we should try
And color our skin with hues that cannot be seen
In the standard visible spectrum.
We're making a rainbow connection,
You and I.
Can't you see the bright bridge we've built across the sky?
My shining *** of gold at the other end
Is filled to the brim with your laughter,
And I cannot wait until I can dive inside
And swim.

Your legs are shaking
And yet you stand
And when you fall
You try again
I can't help
This smile on my face
As your small mouth opens
Says my name
"Mommy." You say
The name you've given me
And a small tear falls
I am so happy.