A Universal Charm

 

Was never a night where

the stars hung         like hangers             from a warped, darkened attic

the vaulted vastness

and pastness

of sightly lights frighten by flashes            splayed so slight

teachers taught me about the sky

that the shine of stars is a relic from years gone by

an old flame

many a multitude of  beams

like white seeds                                         against fertile soil

held not the moon in place          with whispered conversation

ought not replace smiles in exchange for  sun

fixed my fingers into fists,           folded my arms

preventing the digits from pointing to far places

in fear of causing the moon to rise             before it’s time.

Rather I sat sharp,

face taunt with humble aspirations,

heavens highly aware of my impressive influence.

What a charm                 to be jewelry on the universe’s arm!

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