that star

it's infant and shiny in fact, 

to humans point their fingers

as this world just worships

the one who sits on the citadel. 

at first, they catch sight of light 

but it doesn't trouble them 

how chemicals hypnotize, 

burn inside, fuse and die , 

to showcase its splendid, 

charismatic, dignified life.

such crystal clear in the night

like a nail hammered in the sky 

holding wishes of bambinos, 

gripping dark fables of grownups, 

decoding the last wish of

an oldster to see his wife, 

one last time, projected in light. 

this is life, vicious or mild, 

if hands are well, head is well, 

eyes talk, ears behave 

they gift you no mayhem, 

but one pillar rusts in a way 

they condemn to design, 

they wipe out peace and 

pacifism from my shrines. 

it's infant and sparkling in fact, 

to humans convey the truth of life, 

but who covets for the star

which is shedding its shine, 

pivoting a more light years far

just to house a new amateur, 

who bolsters for the star

which is collecting its remnants

in the stellar fire but turns to dwarf

just to shelter a new amateur. 

- chetna🌻