• Mitali Biswas

Description

They say the stars don’t speak of love,

but what, then, is Jupiter

if not Earth’s distant, watching flame?

A storm-eyed sentinel,

bruised with longing,

spinning endlessly in her name.

He orbits loud, colossal, proud,

wrapped in rings of wandering moons,

yet in all his thunder-hearted might,

he never strays too far, too soon.

For Earth is fragile,

blue and blooming,

spilling oceans like open palms,

while he, all gas and gravity,

holds back tides with gentle calm.

He shields her from the comet’s kiss,

takes the blow she’ll never know,

a lover cloaked in cosmic silence,

protecting her from undertow.

At night, when clouds veil city light,

she leans toward him in quiet grace,

tilting her axis like a sigh

to catch a glimpse of his face.

But they can never touch,

not truly, not skin to storm,

too much between,

too much form.

Still, they dance,

the vast and the small,

one spinning slowly,

the other watching it all.

And though no star has blessed their union,

no myth has dared proclaim their fate,

in the hush between rotations,

she whispers back,

wait.

And he does.

For centuries, for love.

Because even gods, it seems,

can’t get enough

of someone

they’ll never quite reach.