When I was young I learned about
the constellations in the stars.
I was fascinated by the whirls of shimmering patterns scattered across the night sky.
I traced the Big and Little Dipper and seared
their shapes into memory.
Even now I look up and my eyes wander to the faint outlines that were so bright, so long ago.
And in the darkest of night when sleep evades
my grasp, and the world is silent,
I turn to my many companions and dance
in the light of the moon.
Sometimes I see messages within the patterns and trace them with my imagination and a finger.
I watch as a trail of stars follow the Lion as it bounds across the sky every night,
I see the Orion Hunter take aim night after night at the monsters in the stars, never ceasing,
always looking to the horizon.
I gaze at the Greek heroes and their deeds that embedded them into the constellations.
And when I see the millions of figures in the sky,
I don’t feel so alone. Then I turn to the moon.
He is the loyal companion who never betrays
the secrets given to him,
The friend of light that only exists in darkness,
Consisting of only dust and dreams.
Maybe the moon and I aren’t so different after all.
And every dawn when stars are overrun by sun,
My eyes still wander to the ghost of the Dippers, Orion, the Lion. The moon.
And despite the fact that my companions are gone until dusk, I smile.