The Stars Refuse Silence
They do not ask permission
to burn.
They scatter themselves across the black
like secrets no one could keep,
like laughter that escaped the mouth of the universe
before it knew what it was.
Some are already gone—
their light only a letter
still traveling through the dark,
addressed to no one,
yet opened by everyone
who dares to look up.
They are not lanterns,
not guides,
not even wishes waiting to be claimed.
They are reminders
that distance can still be intimate,
that brilliance can outlive its body,
that silence can roar
if you are patient enough to listen.
And when you stand beneath them,
neck bent,
breath caught,
you realize—
the stars are not above you.
They are inside you,
burning,
refusing to be forgotten.
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