worlds

they are worlds
in a conspiring universe
and I, a distant stargazer.
our minds intersect
through stars
and all the notes of their anthems
drone;
adding planets
to a never-ending solar system
that parts us.
they conspire with the sun against me
‘til it’s colder where I stand
for she, in her naivety, has submitted to them.
they conspire with my thoughts against me
‘til my pen confesses their names
for I, in weakness,
have submitted to them.
i am haunted by this nothingness
that connects us—
our own making.
so we make worlds,
hoping lives intersect
to meet our whims;
we strive for recognition,
shunning the Gods who created us.
after all,
we are worlds
and we can be destroyed
as easily
as we were made.