stories of lost stars

She would stare at the reflections of the sky as they were replicated on Earth,
With wonder and pity, she traces over the glass, only for it to distort.
She caresses the moons crescent, a slip of what she once was.
A perfect so picture could only exist in the confides of her mind,
For the stars always had a way of changing and creating what had never been.

She watched and waited, never letting her eyes stray far from the blackening sky.
Staring endlessly at the stars as they were born time and time again, yet,
For all their beauty, the broken galaxies they left behind never could amount, for,
Each held a shattered piece of a life that was no longer theirs to claim.

From Death, she supposed, the stars gained a presence they could not in life,
Uninhibited by the bounds creation trapped them in,
They moved and soared with no means of Time or the space they resided.
And they burned tales in the darkness—the story of lost stars had never been found.
Explosions and bursts brought forth from a love they once shared with the sky.

It is in that moment, she fell in love with Life the way Death once had.
Forever wanting to grasp what he could never have,
The need to create and give life—his touch would only sully,
So to have what he could not, he gave his curse to the stars above.

He hoped to impress creation with his virtuosity, to dazzle her with cosmos
Left behind by overwhelmed stars and their fragmented existence,
But for all his attempts at infatuation, Life would not submit,
For she was engrossed with Time and his tricks,
Existences given and taken in a single moment,
And Life had always been naïve, eager to give, and Time was forever patient,
Waiting for opportunity to snatch the cosmos Death had forged.

But, perhaps that is a story for another time, she thinks,
For the stars have no master, at least, no longer, as they play and fall from the sky,
And she knows that it is only a matter of time, before,
Life decides to give back what was taken from the stars in the sky,
For Time to bid himself and draw the cosmos across millenniums, all the while,
Death sits and waits for Life to look at him the way she does her creations,

But perhaps that is a story for another life, she wonders,
For she had watched the stars shift and change time and time again,
After all, it is a moons job to keep the stars in line with themselves and the games they play.

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