Superstars

We point at the brightest star

Marveling at her beauty.

How sad that she will die

First among her sisters.

Generations of eyes

With no pen in hand.

A chorus of fleeting words

But only for seconds.

Born without a name.

Her sisters mourn her as eternity

Grows darker.

The burning endured

For our pleasure.

Now she lay dead

With no tombstone.