So, this is a thing.
How does one?
How do you?
Welp, time to give it my best. This one is hard.
I have nothing. This triggers no story, no poem, nothing when I look at the prompt. My mind is blank, completely blank.
I can usually talk a prompt out and come up with something.
I used to look at the stars when I was little. I was able to pick out most of the constellations in a given sky. I could look a the sky for endless moments, imagining each one was either alive or using something like the big dipper to gather water or cook.
When I got older, I used to look up the stories behind the constellations and was surprised to find many had mythological origins. I must have been around 12. This was really cool to me.
(Yes, I am still trying to talk it out. So, this is a stream of consciousness post. Those are a thing, right?)
Celestial body in the inky black night,
What dark secrets do you hide?
How deep is your concavity?
Do you hide joy or depravity?
When another celestial tips your handle?
What secrets fall from the rim?
Are they of enlightenment or very much quite dim?
You have been in the canvas we call the sky
Long before any of us were nigh.
The things you have seen and
The things you may know
Have me wondering how far you will go.