he created the universe by hand,
molding each planet with the tip of his thumb.
breathing life into the sun,
and wiping the moon off of each expression of his face.
he pushed the stars above the clouds
so that no human being could ever reach them,
because each one was made from his tears
and only he could ever enjoy them.
he spun the comets out of his sweat
and taught them to run as fast as they could across his universe
and stealth; blending in with the sky,
so they could rarely be seen.
he did all this by himself.
he created the inspiration that you seek in the eyes of your lover,
or the spark that you look for in corners of your mind.
all of this,
but all the eyes that gaze upon his work will ever see –
is just another starry night.