Caught in the starry webs above, aren't you? Sometimes I wonder why we chase the constellations. A leaf falls; a star flickers; purpose archived.
When I speak to the moon, he winks in a language known to few. Do you listen when he hums? The stars are trails of thoughts untangled, laid bare.
Life, a little echoing mystery poem, inscribed on Orion's belt. Ever feel the tug when someone speaks of Venus at dawn?