Where the Stars Remember

 

Above the sleeping hills of Earth,

the universe hums softly—

a choir of distant fire

older than memory itself.

Stars bloom like lanterns

across the endless dark,

each one carrying stories

written before oceans learned to breathe.

Some shine blue with restless youth,

some glow gold with ancient patience,

and some have already vanished,

their light still traveling toward us

through rivers of silent time.

I look upward

and feel wonderfully small.

Galaxies turn like great celestial wheels,

spinning dreams through the velvet night;

comets carve silver signatures

across the edge of forever.

Somewhere beyond sight,

new suns are being born

inside clouds of cosmic dust,

while black holes guard secrets

no map can fully hold.

And still—

among all this infinity—

a single human heart

can pause beneath the sky

and understand wonder.

Perhaps that is our purpose:

not to own the stars,

but to witness them.

To stand on a tiny world

in the middle of the vast unknown

and whisper,

“How beautiful it is

that we exist at all.”