Constellations in Our Eyes

I look at our eyes.

I see broken glass,

refracting light on water

making me see all the colors 

dispersing in a way a 

prism wouldn’t enable.

All those fragments

of all kinds of stories

revealing themselves only to

make me feel so alone

with my one color to see.

Yet that color is not primary as it seems.

I think back and I see more;

more to the fragments 

and more to each perception.

I close my eyes and think back.

Every part has a purpose.

Every piece fits with another 

to form a line connecting them.

If everything is a smaller part 

of a bigger ideology,

does that mean that everything 

is a maze of shapes yet to make sense?

Then the sky would be made 

of puzzle pieces.

I would imagine that the 

sky would be made of glass;

so fragile that it hurts to see;

so intense that you can’t believe.

If that were true,

that would mean every piece exists flawed.

When flaws wouldn’t hurt,

would the sky hurt if it fell on me?

Would I apologize to it? 

Would it be as harsh as the sword of Candor?

Would you find yourself diverging from the path? 

Would you find yourself harder to see?

Would you make it harder for you?

Would you make it easier on me?

Oh, my imagination, would you still run wild? 

In the fields of unknown opportunity,

you’d still flourish 

riding on with your spirit

as bright as dawn.

Look at the stars, how fitting.

Look at how they make constellations witting. 

As a part of a bigger picture, 

what would you paint?

As limiting as it it, 

find a way to bring me back

to enchant me once more.

Find a way to bring me back in time

to see the constellations when they first met;

to hear their conversations on the wire;

to see the untouched hope

that you shined with.

That is how our eyes glimmered

in the moonlight as we sat

contemplating our future 

travels and adventures.

That is how we seemed 

to the galaxies far away

as they watched us;

two specks chasing each other.

I wonder what kind 

of constellations could the 

stars see as they observed us?

I’ll leave that to their imagination to draw.