the sun burns.
it burns in all of its splendor and it lets its own heat devour its skin because there is a reason to hurt, there is a reason to bleed, there must be a reason to let themselves become destruction.
(there has to be for all this)
they say that the light is needed. the glorified ruination is needed and famed in all of its divine wreckage. this star is a blaze despite the torture of existence to bring illumination to others.
sometimes the sun falls into thinking he's selfish. sometimes it imagines an existence that does not know the breath of flames.
but that stops once it sees the moon.
it is a hard rock among finer things, scarred and blemish with deep craters, rough to the touch. it's surface only knows the comfort of being bathed in the dark and the ache of loneliness in a universe full of so much more.
but oh, when it is allowed the gift of this radiance that blisters the sun with such agony, she glows. she brightens the blackest of shadows and becomes engulfed in a luster that puts to shame any other being in the tapestry of the sky. this rutted stone entrapped in the orbit of another is allowed to be shone in all of her grandeur and the sun wonders if she is worth the suffering of combustion every waking second. maybe she is worth the fate of an inferno.
so the sun burns.
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Symptoms of Starlight | Poetry
Poetry"you've been brushed by the need for something greater, your head waits for a crown." In which a girl writes down everything from 2 am thoughts to afternoon drabbles to empowering poems in hopes it all means something.
