And I Will Hold Your Hand

Love. Live. Grow.
The plants' calls are silently vociferous.
Loud expressions of life
shouting with color and scent
and quietly purring from rich earth--

but the sky is less conspicuous:
The pink haze bleaches the black above,
and the brightest stars are the loneliest,
pining for their lost loved ones.
Lost in the lights from the nearby roads.

I wish we could sit content
like the pair of oranges on that tree,
safe with the knowledge they are together--

But I am a bright star,
one of the brightest through that desaturated space.
Looking for my lost
and wondering if you can see me
through the other end of the haze.

Together, we are the brightest stars
but are in different skies.
To be seen and charted
by different philosophers
and named in separate tongues.

Perhaps one day soon,
our very own Babel will be built,
and we will speak together
in the same tongue.
And I will hold your hand.