Asteroid
(part i of ii, In a Dead Sea) by Ryan A. Rodriguez Do planets ever tire out from coursing around the sun? Who are we to answer? It is not we who shackles celestial bodies into constant orbits that only cease to exist, if they will too. Still, it’s wonderful how they partake in this unknowing battlefield, constantly drifting away from the gravity of the sun, hellbent on following their own axes, even if it reaches billions of light years. I sometimes wish I could do the same, but it’s too late for the stars to hear my last songs, as I know they deceive me, for their twinkles in the sky don’t foretell dreams I wished for but are only echoes—the rambles of a child and they never told me that. Yet you lean your head close to falling into illusions of orbs that only flame in your hand? It grazes me with burns for me to stretch to the sky but I’ve long forgotten to catch stars that flicker as soon as it glints my eye, for I’ve found the moon—bright and stark all the same. I wonder, had there been someone who answered my questions of the mysteries of the universe, would the stars inside my heart twinkle still? I’m sorry, that I exist only as light around you slips away, as shadows do. But I will wait here still, till you find another light, I will be by your side.
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