The first time I fell in love
it was with the sky.
I gazed up past the moon
at a loss for words —
I wonder if they know how gorgeous they are,
I almost hope they don’t.
I wonder if the stars ever feel stuck like I do.
I too want to be known for something more
than being shiny.
I want to be known for burning,
having passion surpassing 10,000 degrees,
untouchable to anyone near me.
But I feel suspended in a picture frame.
I wonder if God put the stars there
to remind us how tiny we are,
how beautifully insignificant we are
in the scheme of all things in existence.
I find this insignificance inspiring,
I don’t have to be so shiny.