I look up at the stars on a cold April night,
In the old cemetery with forgotten graves.
The grass is cool, and ground is welcoming.
In the dark, cold night, I cease to be real.
The stars twinkle and shine in the darkness.
Light from millions of years ago reaching my eyes.
Long ago, we thought they were angels watching over us.
When I was a child I thought one held my hand as I slept.
It feels like morning will never come with its warmth.
It feels like Jesus will never return and wipe away our tears.
That all this violence and cruelty will go on without end.
The light of stars shone on worlds long dead and forgotten.
Like the dead in this cemetery. Like all of us when the sun explodes.
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