Death Within The Shooting Star

I had wrote this poem awhile back in memory of my beloved, diseased uncle.

With my glistening green eyes that fell for everything thrown their way;

I was young and innocent.

I had believed anything, especially when it came to you.

Once, you had told me that all of Earth's magnificently bright stars were all tied up--

By separate, microscopic strings.

You had said these stars represented all of us that have been put here;

When I was born, so was a brand new string attached to a tiny star somewhere far away in our galaxy.

As I had continued to mature, and your days continued to fade, I still questioned what stars represented our lives.

You had failed to tell me that these stars all become detached at some point.

Nights are not eternal, nor is my curiosity or youth.

The world was too quick to tell me all of this,

The string didn't hold the star, you, from falling into this earth.

You simply don't just untie your string when you kiss this marvelous world your final goodbye.

It is hard to say what could be fantasy and what couldn't be.

Though this is all too much to process, and there are still some things that not even pure knowledge can explain.

So I'll stick to what you had told me, before your string had simply vanished.

This world is indescribable and it drives me insane,

but all I know is that the night you slipped away from this world

I had seen my first twinkling, everlasting, breathtaking:

Shooting star.

Author's Note

No mean reviews please. How could I make this better?

Reviews

[Kiwi.jh]

This is really good work.

[Matthew Kult]

Cruelly awaken, beautifully glimmering

Great read

Matthew