The Unsearchable Star

There’s a hunger in me, unsatisfied, a longing cut from quiet cloth – stitched loosely with prayers murmured into pillow’s carved-out ear, where hope trembles, chaotic as smoke, drifting toward a heaven hesitant to listen.

I court impossibilities, begging stars to come closer, knowing well the sky hoards them greedily, leaving only distant crumbs of gleam for fools who chase dreams in the dark.

But my heart, a stubborn poem, a defiant ballad etched on wood worn smooth by storms survived, a saber dulled from striking bedrock that still promises to cut truth from lies.

I’ve raised praises in ruin, scrawled love notes with hemorrhaging fingertips, and carried names heavier than iron shackles. I’ve shouted sermons into the wind and called it faith – madness, perhaps, but a madness that wears like armor.

Let the world mock, let them count my failures aloud. Each scar is a badge earned, each defeat a story told around blazes that refuse to die.

I chase the unreachable star, not to hold its burning mystery but to cast its impossible radiance across paths where younger feet will tread.

When my voice cracks, hoarse from singing to silence, when my strength fades, bones brittle beneath burdens unmet – I shall stand taller still, for behind me march shadows taking courage from my falling footsteps.

So let the stars remain distant, let the battle be forever uphill. I will rise, a man made of murmured prayers, scarred poems, and stubborn largesse, and declare:

Here stands certainty in flesh and blood, unbroken by defeat, forever chasing stars so others may find the aurora.