Star

When you look at me, do you see me as the star I am?

Perhaps, the constellation I’m famously a part of?

My significance is measured by the company I keep.

Though, it’s through your eyes I’m seen in that formation.

In the grand scheme of things, I’m just like the others.

I don’t need to be in the center of anything,

Especially your attention.

If your focus becomes magnified,

Through scrutinizing eyes, and I’m seen for who or what I am,

I feel a need to present myself as someone or something I’m not.

The backdrop of the night helps my illusion of brightness stay alive.

The truth is, I lost my sparkle eons ago.

Long before you were ever a concept.

Actually, I prefer it that way.

Held up and observed, I appear the same in comparison to those around me.

My insignificance is lost to the naked eye, though my individualism is not.

You may find it impossible to fathom,

My existence is minute when compared to the universe, galaxy, or even my own solar system.

I can only hold your attention for so long.

The life expectancy of a star of my age is beyond your comprehension of time.

I’ll eventually lose your orbit,

You’ll move on to another and forget about me.

Hell, you may never notice from one night to the next, that I don’t show up.

In a flash, I fold into myself, My whole existence is gone, forever.