Eulogy for the Stars

[poetry_zealot]

once we believed the stars
were radiant balls of light—
not relics,
just ghosts.

we named them
like children
we could never raise
and let them burn

but they never did—
they only died
(quietly),
millions of years away:
their silence gradually
mistaken for warmth.

now,
the sky is full
of things
that don't dare to burn—
light still arriving,
long after
it mattered.