은하

This is a poem i just write, it's more an answer to the previous one, but i thought it could do better on it's own.

Untitled, (April, 7th, 17:04)

You were never meant to be the star—

But to bear witness to it’s glow.

To it’s flickering,

in and out,

of existence, of pain—

A watcher, 

A keeper, of it’s light—

Morphing, warping, transforming,

In and out of existence

To bear witness;

To beauty, 

To pain,

Original: 

“stars are beautiful, yet so far away, and so lonely in the big dark universe. Sometimes i like to think that i am a star too. but i can't be one can i? I'm not beautiful, and i'm clearly not shining.”

June 26th, 2014, 5:59 AM.

Revisited;

“Stars hold a beauty you cannot touch, 

they shine brightly in the dark abyss—

In the cosmic universe, where darkness is constant—

Yet they shine. 

They flicker.

Down here I wonder, do I, too, flicker, brightly like a star? 

Am I too, a beauty you cannot touch—one only to behold? 

Do I shine brightly in the dark?

In the abyss? 

In a place where darkness is constant?

Do I, still shine?

Am I too, like a star? 

Bright? Flickering? 

Am I too, like its light?

A distant sight to behold?

Am I too, false? Distorted? 

Like the celestial lights we see

so bright—

That flicker?

Have I, too,

Burned out?

A million years ago?"

April 7th, 2025, 15:04 PM

This is just me revisiting a poem I did many years ago. Honestly I don't really remember writing it, I just found it here on my blog, and really I wanted to give the piece another try.

I named it "Poems revisited", because I plan to go over a few more.

Original; 

“If I scrub my eyes really hard then I can see stars even in the darkest of places.

it's only in my head.”

June 26th, 2014, 5:53 AM.

Ver 1; 

“If I scrub my eyes hard enough, then even I, can see the stars, even in the darkest of places.

—it's only in my head.“

Ver 2:

“I scrub my eyes, harsh enough to see the stars, the universe in my mind, to see the light, colour in even the darkest abyss.”

—it's only in my head.“

Ver 3;

Through violence, I make stars form in and out of existence, 

flickering lights—

Vivid colors paint my canvas— 

No longer an abyss, no void—

But colours, light—

flickering,

through violence, pain,

In and out, of existence—

The harsher I scrub, the more vivid the universe,

the more paint on my canvas.

The harsher I scrub, the harsher the imaginary, 

The harsher the caricature.