To Walk Among the Stars

In the heart of an explosion that has lasted for aeons,

we stand and look up.

Solitary yet tied to the heavens.

We are made of stars,

and illuminated by their shine.

*

Under these same stars,

a man carved for his child,

a wooden toy.

In its cryptic smile you can see the human face,

and it is kind.

Those eyes are warm and curious,

the smile is crooked,

and there are scars, yes,

but so much beauty.

*

To walk among the ghosts of dead stars,

is to see our own history like a smattering of glitter,

on a black canvas.

And wonder -