I stand like an anchor.

A captain gazing over the bow of his ship.

My chest held high above the spoils of my day.

I look out over the valley, a conqueror over his prize.

The shadows thrown over the rocks and streams,

The warmth of sunlight cast along the walls, climbing higher and higher.

The basin, deep and wide.

The dewy grass begins to sparkle,

although the sun has long ago retired.


I look up and gaze at the stars;

Their cold wise twinkling eyes,

like those of my grandpa.

I fall backwards,

no matter how far back I can lean,

my eyes overload with the trillions of specks.

They close for a second but I find light


Cold light.

The kind that comes from years on years on millions of years of burning.

Light that is cold, that is old, that is wise.

The kind that fills the sky till the young, warm sun returns


Those stars shine above me,

they shine like an anchor,

they are the captain, gazing over great sea of stars.

they shine high above me, always twinkling.

They look over my short life that burns for a hundred years,


They remember the lights of my grandpa, of his grandpa.

They know the lights of my children and their children.

They look down upon us, and all of time is lost.

The stars twinkled with laughter, they cry with sorrow

and all we can do is look up and stare.