The Ignored

The kind are ignored, their deeds drift silently through the day never to be noticed.

There is no recognition for what they have done.

Only they will know.


As I look out of that familiar window, I can see the stars once again.

How many times have I gazed upon them?

Hundreds, thousands, more?

I find many of my answers from these silent guides. They are always there, consistently watching over everything that was and everything that will be.

To be a star in the sky would be nothing short of a miracle. Think of what you would see, think of all the memories that would be gifted to you.

I wish the stars could talk, if they did, I wonder what would they say?