"The Stars Are Twirling"

The Stars are Twirling… Somwhere through these sleepy curtains of soft snowy fleece, I know the stars are twirling with melodic chime and monumental reason, pivoting around our tranquil little hollow, unconcerned with our so-so mediocre meditations- And how I envy them for it! I wish I had wings, so that when greater winds whirl I could spread them, and selfishly take with it to soar beyond the sky where I could converse with a billion suns and be free of the chains of earth! Here I could sing my name, a ballad, my tears would be lamenting waterfalls which would flow from the partition in the heavenly gates themselves, and my breath would be the soft echo of my heard voice, for what honest, humble man could say “I would not love this”? But could I sign myself a traitor, and cloak in the utter ignorance of my turned-coat? How could I abandon the open arms of friends and family, to abide in the cold, shallow waters of strangers? After all, when a flower defects it’s roots, is it not weeded?