You are a wanderer among the stars.

Traveling from one to another,

you get brighter, as they

fade behind.

Was it you who robbed them 

or was it a gift, their light?

I asked them once. 

They blinked in the darkness 

of their silent land.

I am a lonely moon. Outside 

of time, I am stuck in space, 

in the momentum 

of two bodies colliding

for a second. 

I drift away into the void and

hear the distant cries of the empty stars.

Cherishing the number you’ve given me, 

I send my name to you. It slides 

through space—they call it

a shooting star—a tear of mine.