Do stars make you feel small?
Looking up at the stars,
Faced with the infinite night sky,
To admit to being small, infinitesimal.
Why do they then keep me company?
Of their infinity, and my infinitesimality.
Stars and I, one, in being putrescible.
Gazing below, never looking down on me,
The stars, burning for my viewing pleasure,
Give in to a temptation of their own—
Titans connect, now constellations,
Solitaire diamond garlands, aberrations,
To human understanding of being at the top.
Humbled, bedeck, for generations,
Mythic, scientific, religious citations.
Five thousand stars, for me, one night's backdrop.