The strata hides the stars. To see the stars you have to reach such heights that can make you gasp. The galaxy can only be seen through the rarified air. Sighting a shooting star in the city sky is as rare and impossible as finding true love. It’s a contemporary miracle. I saw it once. It was breathtaking. It came too close and was shot down. I wished upon its last sparkling breath. I was selfish. I should’ve just prayed. The shooting star streaked across my heart etching a curve. It is a smile. I was a seeker. Seekers finders. But finders might not always be the keepers. Miracles don’t guarantee anything.
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shaant bheem shaant.
like it …:-)
thanks