Asterion

Belonging to the stars

His name presumes

But he does not stare

At the night sky overhead

For he is locked up

Underground lost in a maze

And as he looks above

Instead of the dirt and stone

He can only imagine

A perfect summer evening

Out in a field

When the moon is high

And the wind sways the grass

And in this fantasy

He sees twice as many stars as usual

In another life perhaps