I look up the sky and see the stars,
All these specks of light so dense.
I can’t help wondering,
What could be their meaning?

They are flickering and yet steady,
Like as many bits of souvenir,
Could they be telling a story?
Helping Humanity in its steer?

Are those the souls of fallen heroes?
Watching over our evolution,
Intervening for our protection,
Or to keep us on our toes?

Are they the Universe’s clerks,
Observing, keeping records,
Accounting the acts of the herds,
For the day of judgment that lurks?

Are they holders of life?
Other islands of sentience?
Experiments of an alien science,
Riding on chaos’s knife?

How many shined over the first man?
How many have since cast their final light?
They have accompanied the first caravan,
And will witness our twilight.

Regardless of what is their nature,
They remain independent and free.
Although I can never be too sure,
Sometimes I feel they wish to befriend me.

Montreal,
Nov 25th 2001