Where the Stars

Some things exist before they are seen—

like the tide pulling long before it reaches the shore,

or the way dawn gathers itself in the dark,

waiting to unfold.

I have felt that kind of waiting,

the quiet hum of something just beyond,

like the sky pressing against the edge of itself,

ready to spill into morning.

I have sent thoughts into the wind,

watched them scatter like dandelion seeds,

unsure where they might land,

unsure if they will ever grow.

And yet—

Not all things need hands to hold them,

not all things need a place to land.

Some belong to the spaces in between,

the weightless hush before a wish is spoken,

the way light lingers long after a star is gone.

So if the night carries my longing away,

if the sky folds it into its endless blue,

let it be enough that I sent it at all.

Let it be enough that the stars once

listened.