I wish on broken stars,
because the bright ones give off too much light.
The feeble stars,
with fractured points and fading colours,
too fragile to fix, but strong enough to hold wishes.
I send them hope through clenched palms,
whispers through soft pillowcases,
eyes clenched tight.
The stars that float under dim streetlights
will always be stuck until the electricity cuts off,
so why not settle.
As we grow and light up our world
we learn that the world is not revolving around ourselves,
but around all of us.
We are a collective.
A concentrated human force.
So be gentle to those shy wallflowers
next time you see them picking petals apart looking for the answers.
Make time to understand their culture
before hurling it into the wind.
Remind yourself that love is love,
regardless of skin colour or gender.
Celestial dreams will last forever.
So write your dreams down on every cast of cloud hanging from the heavens,
the sun will grab them for you on the way down, I promise.
It takes just one person to create change.
Then a ripple, a constant flow of humility.
Though with careful ears pressed against soft spoken lips,
we will spend our days listening to every word,
bracing to the billboard sized mouths.
We all want to be heard with every bone of our being,
but most of us are afraid to whisper.
From the wish of being the playmaker,
you , yourself and all of your humility can be the saviour.
Guide that inspired this poem: