One night, the star called upon me.

Hid me in your fires, bright one.” I asked.

It said no, for I will burn.

I thought for a while for something was wrong. In its fires I do not die, for the embrace are in our thoughts when we’re afar.

The night ended and days passed by, and the star called upon me with its fires burning bright.

Leave the skies for I will meet you.” I asked.

The star was angered and its fires grew. Have I thought of the skies if the star will be gone?

Yes, I did for a thousand times, for there are other stars to sing the lullabies of the night.

I thought for a while for something was wrong. So the night said its goodbyes and days passed, and the star called upon me.

“Have I gone blind?” It asked.

“Let the clouds clear after the thunder ends, and say you are not blind.” I replied.

A lightning, the star threw towards me, for it insisted the clouds said it had gone blind.

The storm calmed and faded, and its sight regained that night. I thought for a while for something was wrong.

The night slept and days passed, and the star called upon me.

“I can’t fly into your skies but will you crawl down to me?” I playfully asked.

It compromised, but the star turned into a worm.

Photo by Larm Rmah on Unsplash
© 2018 Onie Maniego and The Paper Drafts

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2 thoughts on “Twinkle Literalist Star

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