Shooting Star

There was a meteor shower. And I did not expect it, but in the quietest of moments, I saw a star rush down to meet me in my cold walled city of light. And though my life has been comprised of wishes and the desire for cliche, in that moment, I forgot my wish. I forgot my first chance at the magic of a real wish, as custom dictates beyond birthday candles and eyelashes and dandelion tufts. And when the childlike wonder coursing thickly and wildly through my veins finally settled back into a steady rhythm, I felt the child in me smack myself upside the head and berate me that we missed our chance, -to find real love -real magic -to fly -to wake up in the morning with some extraordinary supernatural power wrapped up in a neat little sack beneath my pillow, Because "Starlight star bright, first star I see tonight" will never work if I continue to see the millions before the single. And I know they are all there where I am looking, even though the light drowns them out, but when the quick white trail of spirit dust and wonder is set in motion before my eyes, I regress into the wistful yearning of an optimistic fool. But if I am space dust, and a body made of particles from earth and time, then surely this echo, this passing mound of metallic fire is also me, and I must grant my own wishes.