Snippets and Stories: (R) Starry Night

I reach for the star that twinkles above me, and cup the small mote in my hands.

But the moment I touch it, does its brilliance shatter into a fine scintillating dust. It is beautiful, and oddly poignant as it disperses, drifting with the passing zephyr.

He turned to me then, a disapproving frown on his visage, "Look, but don't touch. They're far too delicate to be handled."

As he turns to walk away he calls one last Time.

"Just let them be."

So I walked across the starry lake, a mirrored sky of stars.

They twinkled so, and I longed to touch them.

Now, I walk the same hall, and across the same starry night that is both above and below.

I want to touch a star, its pretty light so enchanting.

But I learned long ago, such were not meant to be touched.

Dreams were meant to be, but dreams.