There are stars under your tongue

by You Have My Word

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You are a universe of stories – constellations of metaphors. The glory of your ever-expanding mess; the inevitable collide with a story of mine takes my breath away. Then I remember, there’s no air in space.

Your mind is an orbit of psalms and prayers all synced in a mantra so loud I can hear it from here. What are you thinking? What are you chanting with stars under your tongue? The light from your sun is altogether too beautiful to only give light to one. So…

Share a little. Share your story and in doing so share your light. Give me a little light, love. And I will burn in you – this moment – till I catch on fire too. Till I am ablaze. Till I forge my own universe of stories from the flames. I will strike iron hot meteor and double edged sharp so I can cut my name into the dust of Mars.

It doesn’t matter who wrote their name here last…

Perhaps the dust here is like a prison cell or a prison yard – you write your name on the walls to prove you were there and got out… whether dead or alive. The name on the wall is not a claim of space or fame, it’s a story in its own way – a galaxy behind bars.

They will see the stars from their windows. Maybe yours, maybe mind. They will pray to us, not their gods. They will ask for light. Just a little light, love. They have already carved out their names and they’ve stored stories in the soles of their shoes.

But that has never been enough; they want the universe too.

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