I could count the constellations in your freckles,
And the fragments of broken starlight in your eyes.
Eyes that don’t see what’s here, but what’s out there.
Out there where planets spin and comets fly,
Where stars are born, and where they eventually die off.
Where you’ve been, where you’ve gone before,
To escape greed and hate and misfortune.
Such is the stuff of mortals.
Those who stand still.
You do not linger among the earthly,
But dance in cosmic brilliance across Saturn’s rings,
Vanishing into your own pocket of the milky way.
Off again to the stars, Mercury’s messenger,
The confidant of capricorn and scorpio,
The starry-eyed, celestial solitaire,
Off to count all the stars we haven’t found yet.
-SilentSymphonies
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