The Shooting Star
It was dark inside and the audience was quite
May be there wasn’t an audience at all
Some were sleeping, others reading
I gazed aimlessly
Through the plastic window by my side
The vast emptiness of the stage outside
Lit it was, with countless stars
Hanging in there, on an invisible thread
Never vacillating, ever glowing
There were flashes all across the horizon
A storm must be brewing in the clouds below
The sky glowed like Bellagio’s fountain show
It was one beautiful sight
The stars stood there still
Was I even moving? Was it a paradox?
Awestruck I was with such mysterious thoughts.
It was then that I saw the most beautiful thing of all
‘A shooting star’ that sank into the flashes of lightning below
On a star-studded Spring night
36000 ft above the ground
through the plastic window by my side,
Flying back home to Dallas that night
It was one beautiful sight.
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