Sometimes I sit outside and lay down on my patio couch. I open my eyes to admire the faint stars above. Eventually, always, one star is all I can see, and I am filled with tears. My tears come with the realization that this star is a sun, stuck in a black universe, with no one to admire it’s beauty, or feel it’s warmth, or be in awed of it’s life giving powers. When the stars come out each night, people with their complex minds that can discern beauty go to their beds. They close their eyes to the star’s beauty. It’s the saddest my soul becomes, weeping for the neglect of my star.