I want to lay under a blanket of stars, and think of nothing and everything at once. Of how tiny we are to the universe above, yet how large we can be in someone’s eyes.

How we are so much like stars in that we are chaotically organised, put into constellations with so little to do in our hands. Perhaps longing to shine in other galaxies, and twinkle in a different sky, instead of burning day and night, waiting, anticipating, only to slowly, but eventually, fade away into darkness, into the black nothingness.

If I was a star, I would be a falling star, I’d cherish the joy of giving people hope with a bunch of dreams to wish upon me, as I’m shooting through the sky, just passing through, never stuck in one place throughout the timeline of existence, having already exploded and just waiting on the fuel to give away.

I want to lay down, in the darkest hour before dawn, under a skyful of shimmering stars, and talk about the resemblance of it to your eyes.

And you, where does your mind wander when you’re under the stars?