For one single moment my eyes are held captive. The light passes quickly and is forever gone, yet it's image is burned into memory, to be recalled as a special moment. Each night so many stars make their appearance in the deep blue sky, yet this is the one I remember. The streak and flash of a rare shooting star is sacred and protected. Some days the sky is covered from below and little, or nothing of the midnight beauty is left to be seen.

This could be a metaphor for so many things, for love, for friendship, happy days, life experience. Which ever you relate it to, remember your shooting stars. When the sky is clouded o'er, know the heavens still shine and will be seen again.