Number The Stars

When I was younger, my father left home. They thought he had a heart made out of gold, But side by side the Lord and Devil hung in that chamber of his inner being. “Don’t spend your heart all in one place, mortal. Lest, like Rome, your empire come crashing down.” Yes, this is what they both agreed upon. Father warred with himself until he fled; his Babel would never reach heaven’s heights. You ask, dear reader, why I write you this. See, I have always been a flawed speaker. But when I put pencil against paper, I, too, can make worlds out of the heavens and heaven out of the hell beneath us. I dream, create life, experience love. And somehow, even I can change my past.