Celebrity, as a rule, sounds holy.
The celestial bodies in dazzling lights.
At once, they are in front of us and distant.

On celestial bodies we see ourselves,
Pattern meaning,
Worship.

Like all things,
Our stars rise and fall:
Every one.
We look for meaning.

Celebrity sounds holy.
Celestial bodies,
Celluloid slides,
Off empty canvas
And onto our lives,
While we search for meaning,
Or proof that there's none.