Velvety black sky,
Illuminated by the luminous white moon,
Millions of stars ornated the cloudless canopy, embellishing it more.
Down there, I sat in silence,
Profusely crying for someone,
Who was once, mine
The brightness of the night,
Seemed like a curse to me, on my fate.
Just then, I spotted a shooting star,
Followed by its long shiny trail,
Bidding goodbye to the farm,
Where it had always stayed.
Up there, it was still radiant.
The moon didn’t lose its glow and the stars continued to beam
I chided at the thought of the sky, for not crying
Over losing of one of its precious gem.
Have the sky, moon and stars perfectly learned the art of ‘to let go’?
Have they, really?