where the writers are
Star Whispers


Sometimes between my dreams in the

deep hours of night. I hear the stars

whisper that I have the soul of

a star.

They whisper you are wrong for Earth,

too tender, too fiery, too wise.

Confused I awake, longing for


Bright, beautiful, brilliant - they

are strangely melancholic - they

softly, sweetly, sing sweet blue notes.

Your planet is dying, bleeding

scarlet into the universe.

Through veiled whispers in muted sobs,

I hear

Mankind is the saddest species,

Knowing full well his actions are

Killing his mother - Earth- and while

Killing the mother, his brethren.

Slow, slow suffocation, soon


The stars will bring you all home and

nuture, love you and return you

to your natural state trailing

starlight, celestial love - love.


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