The world is in our hands.

I remember creating this poem in my head exactly a year ago, while we were lying side by side under the big black sky, cramped in a blanket too small to protect us from the wetness of the grass beneath. And patiently we waited for the stars to appear--slowly, one by one, until their faint glow became distinct, until each twinkle came together to light up the night. Yes, that night, the world was in our hands.