Longing

I used to wonder where the stars hid during the day. When the moon still held its head high watching as the sun rose and brought with it the bright of day. The stars never seemed to linger past their welcomed stay. On occasion I would watch as the sun occupies the same space in the sky and tucks the moon back into bed as it waves its final farewells until dusk. The stars just seem to appear and disappear with the void we call midnight. Now I understand that they lie within us. Across the mural of black above, the stars hold stories in the constellations and lock away the secrets of our dreams. When the warmth of the day approaches, these stories illuminate our own eyes in a way that no one truly sees. Oceans deep within our own souls twinkle with the glimmer of reflections we keep to ourselves. Stars shine among the darkness because their essence as supernovas sets them apart from its surrounding nature. Engulfed by preceding light, the stars fail to shine brighter than the light of day. Within our own minds, the folds in our brains flash with creativity and love we have not yet felt, all sparked on by the stars that hide within us as the sun pushes them out. They are siphoned into our own blood, glowing in a way that is too pure for our wretched hands. The unattainable ache in our chests seem to be just out of reach. We can do nothing except make an attempt to soothe it. Some souls ache, with the knowledge of their livelihood belonging to the night. Awake when the stars reside in the sky and not in their minds or their hearts. Their breath just happens to lie within a realm in which they can not exist.