Tell Me the Story of the Stars

The stars they shine,
Ever bright,
Tonight.
“How I wish I could make them all mine,”
He said with a distant look in his eyes.

In a bottle it rested on his floor.
By his bed aside his door.
“It will pulsate and gleam forever more!”
He was sure.

And then along came greed,
It was planted in him like a seed.
It filled him with desire and need.
I should have plucked it like a weed.

It was that greed that did him in.
He kept them in glasses and in tin.
Oh, how happy we could have been,
If I had rid him of his sin.

I remember the day I was shown,
How he made the stars his own.
That horrific power he could hone,
And how it chilled me to the bone.

Late that night,
Out of spite,
I told him it was wrong to steal the light.
And of course this resulted in a fight.

We went our separate ways,
How lost I was for days.
Oh, I miss those shining rays.
Now the night is just shades of grays.

The stars they don’t shine,
Ever bright,
Any night.
“How I wish I hadn’t made them all mine,”
He said with a distant look in his eyes.

Most people think he’s dead,
Despite all the things I’ve said.
After all these years I still dread,
Every night when I go to bed.