If only the stars didn't have to say goodbye,
then the sun could close its eye and rest
from carrying this world through ceaseless time.
Maybe the moon would shine brighter
and the roiling sea crash harder to its home on the sand.
Maybe the harsh white-bloom of the city lights
would grow faint in their glory, pleading us
not to miss the night sky's beauty ere the evanescence of our being.
We could sail on eternally beneath the pointillism on our ceiling,
if only the stars didn't have to say goodbye.
