musing over stars

I did not want to make three separate posts about the same muse like I used to do for all my previous posts from years back. So this would be a single post containing some of the things I wrote while I was stargazing.

my hair tangled with the wet grass,

i looked up to the sky,

and the sky looked down on me

with its million eyes and smiled

and their lights shyly twinkling

in front of the glorious moonlight.

and the curtains fell, and the eyes were no more.

The earth breathed into me and i laid there

letting the possessive mother embrace me away from the strange stars

like death pools around the fallen- thick and crimson,

life pooled around my head - clear and earthly.

and it seems the world was the end and the beginning

and all there is to life.

Quarantine had picked me up right from the middle of nowhere to being cooped up in the city side. Suddenly, I had to go from clear skies with so many stars visible to a gloomy cloudy polluted sky. I had no idea I loved stargazing as much as I do, until I was no longer able to do it. This was written on a disappointing rainy day.

across the palm of my hands, the little dipper traced it's path.

cutting across, a lonely little plane winked at me and flew away.

and by the width of my thumb a million stars burst forth

and spilled their starlight on my skin.

and i laughed at the absurdity, as my tiny human fingers hid the moon away.

oh to be a humongous entity just for a mayfly to look at you like pin-pricks,

and to liken your brilliance to the silly glitter on their second skins.

I resorted to reminiscing about how beautiful the sky was when I lived in a place that could qualify as a forest. It brought along with it a dash of insomnia and existential crisis. Fun times.

it must take the stars a blink, for me to age and wither to bones. 

oh, what a gift is mortality.

but they must be weary, to burn and burn until eternity.

anger can lift away the pain of fire licking at your skin, 

but once vengeance is taken, the fire will continue to burn but to only inflict 

pain onto yourself. 

would it be worth it then? 

wouldn't it have been better not to heed any attractions? 

to just fly around with ease and incompetence like majestic splatter of dusts across nothing?

I wonder how entitled humans must be to paint their own emotions onto entities far bigger than them and act like this giant, mysterious, unfathomable universe somehow gives a damn about them.