I recently sat down on a rock.
Evening had passed,
And in a long while,
I finally noticed the sky.
There were no trees around.
No buildings, no people.
Just me and the dark expanse.
I was intimidated
But I took off my headphones
And allowed the private session to begin.
I reached out my hand.
My fingers shrunk the closer they got to the stars.
Smaller and smaller,
As if my hands were instead feet
And were hoping to run away.
Eventually, black milk would engulf everything around me.
Then I noticed the stars.
Stationary fireflies,
Minute lighthouses,
Pinpoint diamonds,
Shining against a pit of pure oil,
A blanket of obsidian.
Each star whispered the stories they were told,
All the silly things people promised to them.
Most of them were beautiful and childish.
Some of them were tragic and bleak.
All of them made me look into myself,
Made me wonder,
Had I anything I needed to say?
With patient eyes, the stars waited for me to speak.
Now, I had to open my mouth,
And offer my words to the star-collared priest.
My voice would become permanent in the primordial soup.
Eternal and constant, for future dreamers to sit on rocks and listen to.
Now, I had to open my mouth,
And confess.
Cedar Ridge High School
12