We were children of light, scared of the dark
huddled under our blankets of ignorance
anticipating the moment when shadows would burn.
We peered through slits in curtains, longing
to touch the sea of wishes
then falling prey to the darkness within our minds.
Courage stumbled upon us as we grew,
tips of toes ventured outside.
The pain of a crooked neck, frostiness of a rooftop
was warmed by the Acrux
soothed by the grin of a crescent moon.
A dawn of thoughts flourished
in the dead of night.
Age came with greed
as arms like mountain peaks strained, limbs yearning for light-years
snatching for the Jewel Box, but battered by the Coal Sack
which binds us, blinds us
from the dawn and demise of perpetuity.
We endeavoured to create our own stars,
own light that would shine as bright as those naturally gifted,
in doing so all but destroying the very thing
we tried to imitate.
Stars withered as knowledge bloomed.
Time taught us that flesh
is no match for hydrogen or helium.
We are but small birds beating about a cage that holds
emptiness and eternity, yet we cannot see
To the universe, we are flightless.
Each of us an Epsilon Crucis, so faint, so indistinct
that we are not worthy of any flag.
But together we can become something more.
We can become our own Jewel Box
a land of a long Magellanic Cloud,
our own Acrux
which might just be worthy
of being a bright dot amidst the darkness
on which a child can dream.