I have not yet been touched by light,
yet still I reach through silver night.
Perhaps the sun will see me there,
and grant a name to one so spare.
If love's a flame, then let it burn,
upon the hand that waits its turn.
If love's a song, I'll learn the tune
I'll hum it soft beneath the moon.
Is it so wrong to wish the skies
would learn the color of my eyes?
To dream that stars, in their embrace,
might one day call me theirs, in grace?