Stars

I wish that I could fly,
to those far away places,
those far away stars;
Galaxies.
Their worlds.
Their skies.
Their hearts.
Their present...

They don’t seem to mind
the ever changing light,
the ever changing time.

What we see is their past,
the light they shine,
a mere remnant of a life
that may, or may not be...
How strange this notion seems.

A photograph of history
A movie, repeating every night,
yet never the same
(although it appears otherwise).
The light is there.
But, is it really?