The Twelfth

I stand atop my star-mound,
I look out among those still searching for their own,
And I think about how lucky I was to have so easily claimed my own star,
Many of those searching are fairly young,
But some of those searching are old and bitter.

The fields stretch out unto eternity,
With villages and towns stuck in between,
Everywhere the eye can see,
Burning mounds of shining metal gleam,
All with owners standing atop them.

Thousands of people search through the rubble,
Hoping against hope to find a star all their own.
To find one in the rubble is impossible,
But the alternative is to watch the sky for a falling star,
And to Do so would Drive a man mad.

So, the people search,
Day after Day, year after year,
Shedding tears and blood and sweat,
Facing pain and sadness and loneliness,
All to find their star.

Invariably a man grows cold,
Bored with watching his star,
But fearful still of losing it,
And so a partnership is formed with another,
So their stars are as one.

To lose one’s star is a fate unimaginable,
For it is to lose one’s place and anchor,
To force one to search once again,
To try and find a star of their own,
All the while harboring the knowledge that they had already lost their star.

I watched the little people,
Each searching for their own star,
And I wondered about what I could Do to abate my loneliness,
When a small cry sounded from below me,
And a little girl stared up at me with big round eyes.

The girl said little,
But what she Did was profound and loving,
I found myself utterly Desiring to speak with the girl,
But her star had been stolen by one, Destroyed by another,
Thus she was searching for a way to mend her broken star.

I knew not what I should Do,
But I knew what was expected of me,
To send the girl away, to let her find her own star,
To worry not about those who Do not concern me,
So I gave the girl a part of my star.

My neighbors looked upon me with Disdain,
But most Did not even notice,
The little girl’s eyes lit up with such gratitude that I knew what I had Done was right,
Despite my apparent taboo,
Unfortunately it Did not last long.

The brute came forward,
His star a mangled mess,
And he struck the girls newly-forged star,
Rending it from her grasp,
Destroying all that I had given her.

I gave her another part,
Hoping that I might mend the Damage again,
But the brute just tore it again,
And again he Destroyed my work,
So I gave her another piece.

I realized that I could not mend the girl’s star with the brute present,
But I also realized that leaving her alone to the brute would be an even worse fate,
So I continue to give the girl bits of my star,
Hoping that one Day she might find her own star,
A star greater than that which the brute could harm,
That she might be able to live once again in happiness.