Some night I will watch the stars.
I've been meaning to, I promise.
I will suffer in the cold
For a few minutes
Knowing that a single glimpse of them,
Is blanket enough.
I know the stars, I know their names.
I know their shapes: jagged Cassiopeia, famous Ursa Major.
Our ancestors cut pieces from the sky and
Passed them down to us through songs and words
Who are we to not appreciate their gifts?
Sometimes I'm glad that there is something
That we all share.
War and conflict cannot fog their steady gaze upon us.
There is something in that cold undying love
In their constant vigil
That to share is love enough,
a palm pressed to a stranger's chest, long dead, above his...