I argued with my fallen star

That gravity could kill

But it claimed such stellar drops

Are inspiration's thrill

It said that those who 'safety-wish'

Are not dreamers at all
Instead they're more like thirsty rain

That's too afraid to fall

While sadly circumspective hearts

Think faith is a regime

And suck the joy from every wish

By planning not to dream

And pessimistic 'pocket-wishers'

Bore the speed of sound

For there's no fun in chasing dreams

Where hope's not even found

But casting wishes impromptu

Are daring dreams to be

And then my fallen metaphor

Said, surely you agree

Sure I cede, but technically

You're not a shooting star

True, it said, but meteors

Can still land where you are