Nobody knows what the firmament is really like.
The night sky is full of ghosts from lost stars,
and full of empty spaces where light has not yet arrived.
And space is so vast that time is not enough
to see the place where ghosts that are not yet ghosts
meet the spaces where the light kisses darkness.
This is him.
A night filled with celestial corpses and dark spaces
where uncertainty circles around,
trying to find the place where the loop ends.
He is full of pockets where there used to be a thousand suns.
Moons gather around his eyes,
his hands,
his lips,
waiting for him to call for yet another day.
He is like a storm contained in a jar.
He is an atomic explosion contained in my heart.
Everything he touches he fills with music, including my life.
I go out every night and stare into the heavens, and it stares right back.
I try to see more than I can, but for some reason...
I'm not allowed to know its secrets.
And I still try to understand.
I discover new stars every now and then,
and I collect them,
keeping them in the space between my ribs
and inside of my bones.
And I know,
I know some of the things I see are dead already.
But hope lingers.
Because I also know that new stars are born everyday.
And maybe their light will never arrive to my eyes,
yet... it does not matter.
And what is love but the comfort I find knowing
that even if I never get to see them shine,
they will eventually shine for another set of eyes.
Sometimes it seems blashphemy that we exist at the same time.
Like a bad joke the Universe just said aloud.
But it is in fact a miracle performed by some sadistic God.
A real act of magic,
that among all that exists,
my soul could kiss this work of art.
Nightsky from Pixabay