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The sun is fast asleep underneath the covers of the horizon as I look up at the stars.

Something intangible to wish on-
Something unreal in nature to pray to

There isn’t just one star
Or two
Or three

There’s millions that appear in the black and blue
Like white daisy petals over deep water.
The sky in full bloom like a spring garden after april showers,
It stares down at me.

Real enough to see, but distant enough to lack feeling-
I stare back up at it’s all encompassing black veil,
Only a slim crescent hooked into the black velvet like a sewing needle.

Sometimes I used to think there was a god on the moon
Looking down on us with sore eyes-
Someone who kept the sun in it’s delicate dance,
And wrangled the stars from near and far to light up the night sky.

But now the milky moon’s scarred face only shines down on me, the light from the sun’s sleeping face.
That god is no longer there in my mind as I look up at that moon with her stars.
As if it had already come and went with age.

I wonder where imaginary friends go when you don't believe in them anymore.
Do they drown in the depths of your velvet blue mind while newer thoughts blot them out?

Or do they go to imaginary heaven, like a human soul was always said to go?
A heaven high up somewhere beyond that black and blue velvet in the sky-
Speckled in glowing white dots.

When they cross that point, do they leave holes in the cloth?
Are those stars just the holes these dead gods pierce when they leave the mind-
And erupt through the darkness of the night one last time?

Or are those same stars headstones for those gods as they’re buried in dark matter-
Supernovas pushing up through the black dirt like daisies-
The nuclear decay and new space dust are fostering the possibility of life.

I wonder if that god on the moon saw the sun as her lover’s grave
Eyes sore as she stared down at the earth the star brought life to.

Did she look up out into space too and see all the other stars like me?
Wondering who put them there in the first place?
When she left, did she leave a star of her own?

I wish I knew, but all I can do is look up into those sheets of black and blue-
The god on the moon leaving a vacant house for us to keep.

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© Rynne