The stars blink at me from their heavenly canvas.
They are lighthouses to guide me,
still beacons millions of years older than us all.

I watch one flutter and streak
across the pitch blackness,
and disappear without a word.

I fantasize that someone, somewhere,
maybe here on Earth,
or out on some undiscovered planet,
watched that flame die out with me.
It makes me feel somewhat less alone.

Ah, and there is another!
One more joyous kinship drawn together by the night sky.
I marvel at their beauty.
I admire free open.