StarMelt
Existence is not a choice, feeding a hunger is.
The ancient sea turtle
does not ask for the wet
into which it slips,
Nor the cephalopod
for the dark that winds around it
like a slow, deliberate hand.
The humble flower never chooses
the sun that coaxes it open—
petal by trembling petal—
as if undressing it.
Nor does the gentle butterfly
petition the garden where it lands;
wings and proboscis quivering
at the first shy contact.
But he—
Just a foolish boy
with a body too alive for sleep—
chose the night instead of rest.
He claimed a patch of earth,
bare and waiting,
breath shallow in his throat,
heart beating hard enough
to heat his own skin.
There he made the one choice
that undid him—
to open himself fully,
ribs loosened,
defenses stripped away
like clothing left behind.
And when her star fell,
it did not simply touch him;
it pressed against him,
sliding into every place
he had left unguarded—
and in that slow, luminous descent,
it melted him from within,
leaving heat where longing
had once lived alone.
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Thank you for coming here and walking through the garden of my mind. No day is as brilliant in its moment as it is gilded in memory. Embrace your experience and relish gorgeous recollection.
Into every life a little light will shine. Thank you for being my luminance in whatever capacity you may. Shine on, you brilliant souls!
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