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 sear their shape to 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 among the light of the moon.
Sometimes I make out messages within the patterns and trace them with only 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 constellation.
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 the stars are overrun by the sun,
My eyes still wander to the ghost of the Dippers, Orion, the Lion. The moon.
And despite the fact my companions are gone until dusk, I smile.