Stars Cry

As they fall from the sky.
A dart, a dash
A burst, a burn.
White hot ash;
An angry spurn
Of diamond dreams
And heartful screams;

A warrior lost
In search of foe,
Tempest tossed
In whirlwind war.

Stars cry
As they fall from the sky.
Split apart in spiteful ire,
Disunited deep in space,
A rage of raw tears of fire,
As they yearn for bright embrace.
A shooting star, a night benign,
Covers up this harsh design.

A warrior searches endless realms,
Searches corners of the soul,
Deep within, beyond the beams,
Finds the foe and all the foul.

Stars cry
As they fall from the sky.
Etching pleas across the night,
But sparks of glee in two young eyes,
"I wish I may, I wish I might
wish upon the shooting stars,
I long, like you, to be whole,
To rid in me of every ghoul.”

A warrior holds the weapon firm,
Eyes burning wishing like before,
To reunite with all the flame,
Burn bright like Star once ever more.

 

— Tichakunda Michael Majena (2020)