Recently someone said, "I have a thing with the stars." I could only think... "Do I have a thing with them too?"
"The stars," he said, "see them?" He laid back on the damp blades of grass.
"Millions," he followed Mordred's lead and laid beside him. "Too many to fathom sometimes."
These are segments from "The Igenuous" chapter 2
"What about during the day? They're gone."
"They aren't gone. You just can't see them."
"And even if something is gone from your sight, it isn't gone from your heart."
I knew I wrote about the stars, but I never knew I wrote so intensely and full of everything that is me.
"Does your mind only consist of places to gaze upon the stars?"
"If it's more for my mind and not my eyes."
And even some of these things I doubt make sense to others. And if they do please tell me so, or not. "Making sense" is never what my goal is anyways.
"Why do you fear the stars?" Mordred asked.
"They see everything, hear everything. Witness to bloodshed and unfathomable guilt, or moments between two people. Weather it be envious love, a squabble after a consummated marriage, unrequited feelings, or the planted seeds of a blooming relationship"
"They see destiny and how everyone's lives are to play out."
Daegal saw the edge of Mordred's mouth quirk up at that statement.
"Something funny?" He asked.
Mordred shook his head, "Irony I suppose."
"Something the weight of this world lives upon."
Mordred turned and looked towards him."Yet no one can grasp."
"And if it vanished?" Daegal questioned
"For we would cease to exist," He continued.
Daegal let the words lay but not too long before his mind wandered with questions. What's the difference between existing and understanding?
"Cease to exist or cease to understand?"
"Both…." The raise of his voice at the end of the word gave doubt to his answer.
"Is that a question or a statement?"
Mordred shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe we won't ever know."
Amongst so many things he already didn't know, he didn't need more confuscions that Mordred muttered. For the Druid was in himself all the confusing things of this world and more.
"What about the sun?" Mordred said. "It rules the day as the stars rule the night."
Daegal smiled, "then I'd question the moon as well."
"Then question the moon," Mordred proclaimed.
"Deserves the questioning." He said a matter of factly. Daegal scoffed and shook his head at Mordred's decree.
"Constantly changing its shape with no rhyme or reason." He waved his arms to the sky.
Daegal playfully swatted Mordred's flailing arms down."Let the moon be."
"Then question the stars," he declared again.
"Ask the stars who they used to be." He gestured to the shining teardrops in the ocean above them.
"All the flowers, the trees. Every piece of nature's life here." He sat up, pulling Daegal up with him.
"Mordred!" Daegal squealed, trying to be serious with him but the large grin on his face said otherwise. And of no way to hide it when he sat a mere breath away from Mordred as he leaned over and continued to talk.
"The flowers weren't always flowers. And a tree wasn't always a tree. But what we see them as, and what they voice to us that they are. Yet we never ask about a before, because we're afraid they'll miss it."
"Then we won't have flowers, trees," he gestures above them, "the stars..."
"They mean you no harm. Only to do the bidding of what they were designed for."
"Like keeping a promise?" Daegal questioned, looking at him.
Mordred nodded his head with a smile, "of a promise and so much more."
And if the stars mean the safety you would wish to hold another in. (And a slight change of the story)(A different story but the same author and the same characters and the same words. Just more in progress than the others and a slight twist)
He looked up, realising for the first time that the stars and moon were their guide of light. That the stars were indeed passing judgement upon this moment, making Daegal want to scream and curse them.
"The stars," Daegal said, "you see them?" it pulled Mordred's attention as he looked over at him
Mordred nodded his head, pulling a weary smile on his face, "I do."
Daegal crossed the few feet separating them. He sat down a mere breath away from Mordred, taking the same position as the Druid and laid his head on his shoulder.
How the stars have scarred my writings and words...
"Then marriage shall be in our stars." Mordred Declared.
Daegal almost choked on a piece of cheese, "Have you gone mad?!"
"And If not, would you defy the stars? Would you defy your gods?"
"Nonsense, the stars aren't so cruel."
He had seen the sun, the stars, and the moon time and time again. Yet it never grew boring.
For that was done, sown into what the stars had planned out. And even now, behind him, as he and Daegal chatted nonsense. love blossomed from the seeds planted many years before….
I believe they must haunt me
Mordred was rather fond of mornings. Nights equally so, with the setting sun of evenings being a rival in foot. But mornings had the singing birds that the night lacked. And he could argue about the stars but none held a comparison to their shining splendour.
So out of the question they were. Above all, even the lark that called its free out of tune song. But who was to critique the daring bird? All from its nest among the feathery leaves and cautious branches.
Even storys years old, so untouched I hardly remember them
"We can pretend... your ceiling is full of constellations."
"You know, stars and constellations?"
"Okay, my ceiling and… Constellations. What now?"
"Of course think, there's not exactly Orion The Hunter or Alexander The Great on your bedroom ceiling. But simply the idea that those things are there… so you think."
Whether to believe and understand what he was hearing or brush it off his shoulders and call it random blabber, it almost wasn't his call. He couldn't brush the words off because they meant so much more than what the surface held. But to believe and understand he couldn't quite do either because he would never know the absolute meaning of the words configured to make that idea in the other boy's head.
But If you had know, you would have kissed him one more time underneath the tear drop stars
Then again, and again and again
Until yours lips didn't part and you held him in yours arms again
Why are they teardrops? I honestly wouldn't know
And there you laid upon the bed of the earth
Blades tickling and whisping by every inch of you
And as the thoughtless stars forming constellations outlined your every curve. Acting as a veil, cascading over your head and down the curves I had laid my own touch upon.
Even in my attempts at Poetry; "Love is Not Blue"
If love is what the greeks contended it to be, seven words and defined and planed out for their seperate meaning.
But so much more and so much less that people go to lengths to bind themselves in a handfast or that to end a life.
Was it more for Consummation?
Or shall it be less for your fornicated acts over something of a lost soul?
For love is all there but not there.
As something we can't grasp, so how does it exist?
For love is nothing but a the starry teardrop lights.
Raining down like meteors from the heavens.
The fates laughing down at something destined to end all through or never began.
In the vast ocean above that called to winds to direct sails and guide ships home across the desperate seas.
For they were anything, but never blue.
I think I may have a thing with the stars...
