Most people are just moons,

Glowing dully with a borrowed light,

Or planets, circling duty-bound and tame.

Some few we view with envy, they are stars,

Flashing icy diamonds,

And proud of their own names.

But Myles? A mighty comet

In rogue orbit to the ends of farthest space.

His heart a store of fuel for burning

Expended in the radiance of his face.

The speed of joy,

The friction of restraint,

An Myles appears, and disappears,

Too fast.

He leaves behind a tail of brilliant gemstones,

Smiles, sadness, and the promise

That he will return again.