These Glorious Young Stars

            I want to run on grass without shoes.
            I want to roll the window down and let my hand fly high as someone else drives to somewhere I don’t know.
            I want to see the stars all of them under some gigantic map of the universe spread out on the black table above.
            I want to explore somewhere that’s never been explored.
            I want to listen and to wonder.
            I want to be bored.
            The things I’m allowed to do—maybe I can wait.
            The things I want to do—maybe I shouldn’t.
            The person I want to be—maybe he can wait a decade or two.
            Maybe I want to be a kid for the rest of my life.
            Maybe I want to watch and wonder.
            Maybe all those things I want to undo can simply hover far out in space like all those little tiny specks of wonder.
            Maybe that heaviness I crave so bad can float out far out where no one can hear or see it. Because as they say, in space no one can hear you scream.
            These little wonders of each day pass by and sometimes remain unseen like falling stars because I’m so busy chasing around the fireflies surrounding me. I’m so busy to notice. I’m so utterly busy.
            The stars wait. And watch. And wonder. Just like kids do.
            We’re all so desperate to grow up and move on and do all the things we want to do. Then we find ourselves out of breath wishing we could be young again, bored and waiting and watching.
            So brilliant and beautiful. These glorious young stars.
            Waiting and watching like we all do.
            A heart doesn’t age but everything else around it does. And eventually, it is forced with this decision. To close and protect itself or to open and risk the bruises and the brokenness.
            When you’re young, you don’t worry about protecting yourself. You just go. Run. So free and always falling.
            I don’t want to close anything. And I don’t want to ever stop looking up, no matter how busy and breathless I might be.
            I never want to stop looking at the stars. They’re constant reminders, and they’re beautiful ones.