The Lies Told about Stars

There were no stars, were there?

Just a figment of people's imagination. Or rather a figment of fantasy. A fantasy to institute Hope, above all things.

Its absurd how our hope is garnered by believing into unreality of things. Its funny how fantasy is related with untruth of things. How imagination is nothing but absence of reality, absence of truth.

That would make reality the truth, wouldn't it? But, is it?

If stars were real, they must be true. True to us. But they nothing but lie to us. Lie to us about the wishes they’d grant. Lie to us about their existence, during the day, when we can’t see them in their true form. Lie to us that they twinkle, when they are just incompetent in radiating their light far enough, incapable of fighting back the turbulences of the atmosphere. Lie to us that a constellation is supposed to be a definite formation, when they themselves are arranged haphazardly, for a reason we will never know. Leading us to believe that to constellate is to adorn, to shine with united radiance. When to constellate means to scatter, to go in our own ways for a united reason. They lie that they live far, far away from us, when they live so near.

They live with us. They live within us. They lie, they are unskilled. They quarrel. They are self-conscious. They are pretentious. They are vulnerable. But they are still celebrated.

Because they are every bit human. And because we are every bit Stars.