The stars don’t care if you curse at the sky,
Or laugh till you choke, or break down and cry.
They’ll burn all the same, cold fire in the black,
Never once judging, never looking back.
The trees don’t mind if you tell them your sins,
They’ve heard it before from the wolves and the wind.
They’ll whisper their secrets, gnarled and old,
A language of roots, of moss and of mould.
The ocean won’t flinch if you scream at the tide,
It swallows your fury, then rolls to the side.
Unbothered, relentless, it sings its own tune,
Pulling the shore like the pull of the moon.
And isn’t it freeing, this world so vast?
That nothing out there clings to the past?
That nature moves on, unshaken, unchained,
While we fight our battles, tired and drained?
So let the stars shine, let the tides rise,
Let the wind howl through endless skies.
For the universe spins, unburdened, carefree,
And that means there’s space—for you and for me.
The Joe Van 