For the Night Skies of My Eyes

If words were money, I’ve been a good investor. I’d like to take out just a few. I want to give some words as presents, words that say I know how special you are.

I see myself in this giant mansion, in the library of a great word investor. I spend hours or even days there thinking about which words to choose, listening for the right sound with the right meaning—listening like you would listen—wanting to get each syllable aligned. One word, two words, poetry, prose. Is it a sentence? Is it simple or complex?

Then the music of my heart starts playing and my hands start moving, and my head, finally my head moves out of the way. I realize that the words are not what’s important. The thoughts they are expressing are. I look out the window at the night sky and remember what I'm always saying. People and stars are the same. The words come to my mind almost wholly formed and real. The words I've been investing, they know what I want to say. I guess that's what all of that investment was about.

The Night Skies of My Eyes

How do
stars align
me or you
not here, nor there
in our minds
out
there
somewhere
people and stars
are the same
no touch yet
so touching
so much of me
no sight yet
seeing all of me
all
you there
people and stars
are the same
you are the stars
that shine
in the night skies
of my eyes.

I’ll make a big production of how I wrap the boxes. The red paper will be the finest foil. The gold ribbon will be made of silken cloth with wire. It will take hours, but I’ll hardly notice, because the words inside are valuable.

They are for people, the same as stars.
My friends who shine in the night skies of my eyes.

—me strauss Letting me be