Stars Upon the Plates

On the shore of broken plates, memory sows stars.
Every crack becomes a small constellation.
The table is a sea of ceramics that breathes.
Laughter and silence reflect in the shattered glass.
The stars fall among foam and vanished wine.
A map of lights guides steps through shards.
Memory does not wash; it keeps what shines.
In the dark, small lights know the way.
When night falls, the shore remains luminous.
Fragments become lighthouses for those who remain to listen.
Memory gifts silence, and in the quiet, beauty persists.
Thus we learn to live by the light that does not fade.