The Art of the Universe

Looming way up high in the sky, holds a friendly, but shy star; which posses the caring, and strong-willed determination, which controls the poor star at every waking moment. The determination to fit in and be recognized is seen through the hesitated young star. Soaring into a thunderstorm, ice sickles form over the horizon, a chilly whisper thrusts itself to the crowd, the ocean draws near and completes a crisp but smooth wave that is clean, sharp and to perfect to paint a mental picture. The moon gleams fear with vicious multi-colored red and black eyes, plus flakes of gold that captures the stare of the whole universe accompanied, with an all mighty struck of lightning at its feet. The star gasps, his conscious sliding and forcing its way inside, all his dreams fading, he cant escape it, wind howling, a pitch black tornado forms tightly enclosing him. Nothing can throw him a helping hand, he feels the tornado he names Demon, at the last second crushing and crumbling his hopes and dreams, his bright and intense color of yellow is faint and becoming unsteady. Finally, feeling no hope, his slick and gifted mind takes a toll, falling from above, gaining speed in despair, he takes a deep, woozy, glance at his life, revealing to himself of no achievements, even temporarily closing its eyes, he cascades his last thoughts and conveys admiration of his chaotic life. He orates (Until we meet again) moments from, feeling the powerful and bone-chilling water, caving on his body. Setting adrift underwater, unknown to him, bubbles appear, developing it seems the bubbles grasp the lone star, and propels him upward, not one second of air fills its lungs, when his eyes are driven open. He glances around to barley notice the bubbles have vanished, and it is not them but only himself, lifting his weight. He fails to realize he has actually taken form of a shooting star, evolving, advancing into a confident, elder star. The moon busts into tears, lighting sparks fire, that veraciously swings brightness into all the land. Thunder rings in the distance, has the star has found his calling, finally claiming his name, as a elder in progress. The now self-proclaimed Shooting star, can glide in a glorious resurrection, as he now considers he life is not over, nor in vain, but being built, and he can now start with this on his record, surviving his guilt, and transforming into something beautiful, something worth living for and being known for: A Star of Art, a Shooting Star.