Constellations

I have grown rather familiar with the way the stars fall on the tips of distant mountains. Their points seem to create constellations of their own, outlining the ragged edges of each peak. On nights when they are there, I drive sitting at the edge of the driver's seat in hopes of watching them dance with my headlights and the pair of headlights in front of me. It's all a mess. The order of the stars, the cracks in the paved highway, the thoughts in my head. But the chaos is so reoccurring that I imagine that it was put there for and reason and that it is never going to change. The questions that have no answers, the things that we cannot explain, they will remain unanswered and they will remain unexplainable.