The stars remained this morning, did you notice?
Vying with the sun, they stood firm in the sky
to voice their disappointment with our decisions.



“What price, a friend?” they ask,
spinning in the dust they leave behind.
“What price, a fool?” you reply,
turning to me for acquiescence.


I merely nod my acknowledgement of our dilemma
and grab a candle to add my own voice to all that light.

We grew bright for a moment, do you remember?
We grow dim with rules and worry,
walking in the detritus of crushed dreams,
letting the sunlight win.