One Star

There are so many stars in the sky; endless points of light stitched into the dark, each one a bold defiance of oblivion.

Like people, all with their own unique glow.

So many voices that flicker outward: I am here, I am real, Reach far enough and I am yours.

But the sky tells the truth in its stillness. Brightness is not presence. Most of what you name was never close; only the echo of a light already gone. And yet, there is always One.

A star that does not compete. It simply remains. Not the brightest, but the One that feels as if it already knows your name. Even with closed eyes, it stays.

It does not need to be witnessed to exist. It is revealed by attention, not summoned by it.

And I wonder if love is not a destination, but an alignment, not the many who pass through your orbit, but the One who feels present before you ever learned to look.

The One who sees you beyond surface, who recognizes your strength and sorrow, the way your light folds into shadow. The One who stays when things grow heavy, because They are loyal to truth, not ease.

Maybe that is what I keep trying to name: not the sky crowded with almosts, but the single frequency that endures when everything else dissolves. The One Star that never forgets how to remain in my sky.