You held stars
in your fingers-
I’m sure of it,
or perhaps
it was just your wink
playing tricks.
Do I reach
for one,
or claim
the whole sky?
Reach if you must,
but know this-
stars are
not souvenirs.
They bruise
easily
and remember
the warmth
of every hand
that dared them closer.
I watch
from beyond clouds,
beyond winds,
from horizons
stretching
farther than desire.
Then teach me
the difference
between taking
and being invited.
I’ve mistaken gravity
for permission before.
I feel it
in rivers’ pull,
in mountains’ tremble
when I tilt
toward you.
That’s how the sky chooses.
It leans-
not to those who grab,
palms open,
willing to be changed
by what answers back.
The stars bend
toward you
only as the wind
whispers their names.
I can be patient.
I can be reckless.
Tell me which one
you’re hoping to see tonight.
I shift like soil
after rain,
waiting
for your storm
to meet me.
Neither.
I watch for the moment
you stop performing
and let your hands
admit
what they want.
The constellations lean closer,
curious
which way
you will fall.
Then watch carefully.
I might surprise you.
Or linger
at the edge,
teasing the sky,
testing its gravity-
and yours.
Mountains rise,
rivers turn,
and still I reach,
rooted
yet restless.
The wind bends closer,
leaning
into trembling mountains
and rivers.
Stars shimmer,
holding their breath
for what comes next.
A pulse passes
between all things,
silent but felt,
stretching
the space
between reach
and surrender.
Horizons tremble
as stars shift,
a slow dance of light
across the curve
of night.
Rivers wind through valleys, restless,
mirroring
the pull from above.
Every tremor, every shimmer
answers
an unspoken question.
Clouds gather
like conspirators,
shadows tracing secrets
across the mountains.
The sky leans lower,
its vastness brushing
the edges of earth,
whispering promises
that tremble
into soil and stone.
A single star falls,
sliding past trembling treetops,
catching the reflection
of rivers in motion.
Time pauses
in that thin space
where gravity forgets itself,
and earth and sky
hold their breath together.
Light drifts through valleys,
spilling over peaks.
The wind carries whispers
that taste of starlight.
Rivers rise
to meet the sky, trembling,
curving
toward the heavens
with a devotion
that makes mountains sigh.
The stars tilt closer,
tilting the night with them,
and clouds melt
into the soil,
as if gravity itself
has forgotten
which way to fall.
Every pulse of breath,
every shimmer of light
becomes a thread,
weaving
earth and sky
into a single, luminous body.
And then,
for a moment that lasts forever,
they fold into one another-
Mountains breathing
beneath infinite skies,
Rivers carrying constellations
in their flow,
The wind circling,
circling,
Until there is no above
or below,
only the quiet, radiant hum
of two worlds
learning
to be one.
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