, , , , ,

Stars died for us
a little every night
five million years ago
so that when we looked at them
tonight, leaning against
the passenger door of
your Chrysler, we could
watch them twinkle.
And who knows, maybe
when we were busy
looking at each other’s eyes
one of them quietly split in two
and the second half
made its way across that
astral page above us, and
burned up on the stratosphere
within the span of a kiss.
But I don’t mind
missing a shooting star
when all my wishes
have just come true.
It is enough that
I am with you
to keep my soul hushed
in a constant state of wonder.
We are a medium-sized miracle
surrounded by great ones,
for instance, the sun
from whom the tea candle
on the dinner table
the night we fell in love
learned how to burn.
And our love is a strand
woven into the fabric of
the splendid universe
whose pattern rises and falls,
pulses and evolves and remains,
and if we can be still
and hold each other just right,
we can watch each other
grow a little more beautiful
in the light.

“Astro Wedding” by photographer Robert Paetz


You might also like: