They are the only seven I can always see. I am the only one who cares about them. Seven little stars with twinkling eyes and the world at their feet. Seven who don’t shine the brightest, but are the most unyielding. Seven dots of hope that have lasted for generations. From my window I can see them, but my sister shouts for me to close the shade.

Their passion is hidden. They dance in circles over the earth. They stretch their arms up and spin around and stomp the world with their dainty feet and grab the heavens and pull them down into their hearts. This is how they shine.

Let one’s heart fail, they’d all blink out, crying like lost lovers. Shine, shine, shine, the stars say while I stare. They endure.

When I am too alone and too small to keep shining, when my frail heart is pressed between a black abyss, I look at the stars. When the bigger stars have faded out, burnt up their passion. Seven who dance in a bleak dark sky. Seven who shine and never forget to shine. Seven whose only reason is to love each other and spread love to others.