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Reach for the Stars
There is a boy, and he is different.
The boy flies when no one is watching
He flies when the stars are bright
He tries to reach the stars, and falls just short.
Every night he tries
Every night closer
Every week closer
Every month closer
Every year closer
The boy is older now, he is giving up.
The boy wants to reach the stars
He wants to reach them now.
The boy stops trying,
The boy starts wandering
Every night he looks up
Every night he sees the stars glistening
He thinks that they are brighter
He thinks it is his eyes playing tricks
Then he sees the stars dance
He is awed by its beauty
But looks away
His face is full of tears,
His heart full of despair.
He looks at the stars and tries to grab them
and again
and again
and again
and again
and again
He is old now
He is brittle and weak
He cannot reach, his infirmity is weighing him down.
So he does something that he hadn’t thought about before.
He asked the star.
He asked the star to come to him
The star did not budge
He pleaded
The star did not budge
He begged.
The star did not budge
He screamed,
The star did not budge.
So he looked elsewhere.
He looked across the horizon, and he saw spectacular things
He saw a rainbow in the water
He found happiness in his reflection.
He smelled honeysuckle and mint
He hoped to remember it forever.
He saw a dead bird.
He felt sorrow.
He heard a chirping in the distance
He celebrated life.
He tasted a wild berry.
He noted bitterness, yet a positive distinction.
He Saw.
He Smelled.
He Heard.
He Tasted.
Yet he did not touch.
He did not touch the stars in the sky..
He thought,
Do you have to touch something to see if it is there?
He smiled and closed his eyes,
Reaching his own conclusion.
Reaching his own stars.
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Poetry has been a medium of great fascination to me. No other method of writing provides such depth and complexity delivered in such a succinct manner. A poet's perfect syntax and diction can communicate intense feelings that transcend the written word and percolate in the soul. When I write poetry, I can feel my heartbeat guide my thoughts through my hands. Nothing else is quite like it. This poem has many meanings but, in particular, highlights the futility of pursuing a single pleasure, even when it is evidently impossible to obtain. Through the juxtaposition of the boy's disappointment from not touching the stars in contrast to the awe the boy feels in finding beauty in various aspects of surroundings, I try to convey the importance of perspective. This piece makes me stop and wonder, and I hope it does for you too.