The silver studded sky had lost two of its most beautiful stars that night. People wished upon the shooting stars; but little did they know that those sterling gemstones of the heaven had once entered the vast azure canopy with their own wishes only to be evicted by the fringes of the celestial bower. Lost, and wayward, the stars waited for their reunion; and they met, against the wishes, and to the disappointment of their onlookers. The evening was blue with a dust of fading crimson. The sun was drooping, with a blossoming crescent moon. The stars found each other in the shadows; and the night wrote its first poetry. They whispered that they weren’t afraid of the dark; and that’s how the most beautiful constellation was completed.