Our faulty stars

Our Faulty Stars

Tonight I will sing to the sky pinned stars,

and to planets masquerading as suns,

to beg them to tell me truths from afar,

about how the course of my days will run.

My mind seeks patterns in the barks of trees,

in my stucco ceiling I see a face,

stains in my toilet contain prophecies,

so why not consider these lights in space?

We all search for meaning every day,

in headlines and tea leaves and tarot cards,

in the rosary beads we use to pray,

in patterns of broken pottery shards.

So why not ask these small lights in the skies?

Or should we ponder...does heaven tell lies?