Leah Lee Fillalan

It’s almost night time and the sky is clear. The wind is blowing its soft breeze of July. I’m sitting here and you are not that far away, how cliché it is to say that “we’re so close, yet so far.”


Being an astrophile myself, I enjoy looking at the night sky. I can even name constellations with precision, and when I tried looking for my North Star, the one that will lead me home, I never thought that my wandering eyes would suddenly cross those dreamy eyes of yours. 

My heart suddenly stops for a second and then it beats again and races up, until it bursts in ecstasy, when our eyes lock. I looked away but at that instance, I know you are my home — finally. 

How calming it is to feel that after wandering a thousand years, I will be returning to my home, to my favorite person. I travelled unending skies, planets, galaxies, and universes just to search for my safe space.

Nature's natural compass, the one that saved many travelers and wandering souls billions of years ago, the North Star that I know is never wrong, but why is that when I started walking the path towards home, you suddenly went missing with no trace, how can I go home?

I am lost, my feet are tired, and my soul is weary. Are we stars that just crossed in a lifetime and gone completely? Are we not going to cross each other’s path again? I even wonder if you look at the same night sky, and if you will still remember my name because yours never leaves my tongue.

Maybe you’re not my Polaris, maybe you are the breathtaking sunset I once admired to see. I told you “we’re so close, yet so far.” We will never meet even if we try.

I don’t want to find my North Star anymore. All I need now is a soul that will walk me home. And I will love his feet the most for it walked deserts, land, seas, and skies just to lead me home.