Stars are not meant to be heard.

Endlessly floating,

Surrounded by dust and emptiness

With oblivion awaiting them.

Stars speak their own language.

Elegantly phrasing,

Beckoned by thoughts and avidness

With billions listening in.

Stars see pinpricks of flashes.

Swiftly decaying,

Observed by regard and averseness

With nebulas staring in.

Stars scream into the oblivion.

Painfully knowing,

Entranced by music and brightness

With humans perceiving in.