It was mid-June
the sky clear as if
nothing ever went wrong,
as if nothing was ever going
to disturb your poetic melancholy.
You stood before the tall glass window,
walked determined and unsure
and suddenly you were before the ocean
and suddenly I was drinking tea
on the peak of Himalayas
this is what I’ve always loved about you:
knowing and not knowing,
daring and not caring.
making a long trail of colorful paper stars
and letting them fly.
They don’t seem to ever come back.
“They don’t ” , you say.
One day , one night,
they appear in your darkest hour.
When suddenly you are breathing
the salty fresh ocean air,
when the fresh scented air
on top of a mountain makes you one
with the running spring, soaring bird,
wild flowers, and the shiny little creature
that crawls on a dandelion.,
then unknowingly you felt it in your being
that everything you did, said, learned,
longed for, suffered or struggled for,
no matter how real and harsh,
was just another paper star.
And only when you let the star go,
It came back to you
certain, shining and guiding
like a true friend.,
like your beautiful soul.
Tag: colorful
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Paper Star