What is this photo really about, the stars, the vastness of our multi-faceted identities, or prostate exams?

Don’t Analyze Me

Beneath the water flows,

Flows the twinkling stars of night,

Burning to their final wish,

The wish to remain bright.

Sizzling with success,

Their snarky snappers snip,

Clutching trails of luminosity

With their terminal breath.

Penultimately, they pass

Memories of light ago

In light of the darkness,

Experience, not wisdom, they bestow.

As they diminish in space,

They become one of the night:

A time of rest, a time of dreams,

Unattained, but still in sight.

A metaphysical conceit

Constructed by the conceited;

Their minds and meanings as empty

As the night sky defeated.