The clouds whisper to me,
they are not afraid of flying, they are only afraid of being alone.
The sun whispers to me,
she is not afraid of shining, just of becoming irrelevant when it sets.
The stars whisper to me
in a cacophony of words,
they are afraid they cannot grant the wishes
of the hopeless and the desperate.
They wait for the sun to rise,
to ease the burden, release the constant
The moon whispers to me,
quietly, almost imperceptibly,
“No one notices me, until I’m gone.” she says, she
is afraid of
losing the ones that love her, for no reason
except that at night she has so much time to think.
Don’t we all?