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Mother look.
Maybe I know where
all the fallen stars have gone
and where the falling stars go.

Maybe in the undersea,
becoming who they really
want to be.
When wading on low tides, I never forget to hunt for newface starfishes and take photographs of them for keepsakes.
This concept may be out of the box and/or bizarrely new. The metaphor or maybe the connection of a star and a starfish in this might be not as striking but I hope it does leave a good impression. At the same time, I wrote it in my perspective as a child so to best reminisce how I used to think about falling stars and starfishes. It's like writing a provoking memory, to me. And I did use to imagine the falling stars and starfishes (both things fascinated me) metaphysically connected and related when I was young. It's not a concept I've made up now, it's a thought that really came in mind at the very moment I was at sea with my mother in my childhood. It's a memory I really want to honor and write something about. Somehow, I also wanted to convey this concept as something that would be bizarrely relatable to me, something I, or if by chance, you as well, can reflect on in terms of my/your relationship to my/your mother. On the first line, "Mother look", I wanted it to convey a sense of expression entirely describing those instances when I tried to explain myself or something I think about to my mother and seldom end up in arguments. Then the thought of relating falling stars to starfishes can be childlike. I think of it in a sense that it is a figure. It's exactly what a mother would commonly think when she argues with her child over something, she would think what her son/daughter (in his/her teenage) thinks and wants is childish/childlike. Most times, mothers negate and say what they want for their sons and daughters even if it isn't what their children really want. So that is why I had to impose it in this poem, because it states something clichΓ© but still very relatable. On another note, the fallen and falling stars are both figures that signify the sons and daughters who dared of choosing their own path in very hope of a better definition of their identity and risked for a destination even in the possibility that they could be lost or broken in the process. Then the undersea would be a metaphor or a figure of the world we currently have, a world opposite to the sky, far from where the stars dwell, figuratively a place where falling stars go. But still, can be a place that can be called a home. So that's it. Enstring everything together and TA DAAAH! Lol.
On a serious note, my dear weirdos, it matters to follow our hearts and seek for answers and affirmation to questions that put us in crisis especially if identity is concerned, even if it meant that we have to not follow what our mother would assertively say, mothers are not always right. And even if it meant that we have to leave the house we dwell in and the family that we share it with. Most times it is worth the shot. We'd be there soon. It's really not like we're leaving home. Home is certainly a feeling, not necessarily a place. And home will always be within us only when we've truly found who we really are.

Pardon me for the long note. Anyway, thanks for reading. Happy Sunday. :'>

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