Windswept Letters To The Star's

Across the peaceful evening, a murmur blends,
Underneath the twilight sky where quietness obscures.
Desolate letters fly on concealed wings,
Conveying the heaviness of failed to remember things.

The stars above, antiquated, cold, and brilliant,
Accept our expectations in the still of night.
They glimmer and glint, perusing each line,
Each fantasy we've covered, each mystery sign.

I send a letter, sensitive and delicate,
Following the stars like a sparkling path.
In ink of yearning, I compose my apprehensions,
Collapsing in satisfaction, enveloping it by tears.

The breeze, a courier with consistent effortlessness,
Lifts up my words, gives them holy space.
Through woods branches and vast oceans,
It moves with mood, a divine breeze...

The stars, unaffected by time's awful stream,
Shine with the bits of insight they won't ever show.
However, in their quietness, there's a caring hug,
An immortal solace in their far off place.

Thus I trust the breeze to bear my call,
To float where stars and dreams don't fall.
In each breath, in each scope of air,
I realize my words are supported there..

Desolate letters, conveyed all over,
Converge with the stardust that the night won't stow away.
Maybe, sometime in the future, on a far off shore,
The stars will reply, and I'll look for no more.

For the present, I compose underneath their look so still,
Allowing the breeze to take the fantasies I will.
Also, in the calm of the 12 PM blue,
My spirit is lighter as I'm conceived again.