What would I call thee to me?
Sun or moon or stars?

"You would call me your sun?"

That which we rise to every day?
That which feeds all life with its presence?
That which returns time and time again, a marker for calenders and clocks?

Perhaps.
Wouldst thou be sun to me?

"That which burns dry the desert sands?
That which leaves worse unseen under painful burns?
That which sends heat bounding and rebounding until it might kill us all?

"I would not be sun to you.
You would call me your moon?"

That which pulls the ocean tides?
That which was worshipped all about the world?
That which returns time and time again, ever familiar yet changing?

Perhaps.
Wouldst thou be moon to me?

"That which seems irregular and inconstant to the unknowing?
That which can only ever be fully present on one day of its visit?
That which reveals the path but treacherously, leaving those who follow to fumble?

"I would not be moon to you.
You would call me your stars?"

Those which have recorded thousands of tales?
Those which guided travelers ever since the first wanderer?
Those which give comfort and dreams to all, no matter age or class?

Perhaps.
Wouldst thou be stars to me?

"Those which disappear for months on end?
Those which are sometimes truly planets, imposters?
Those which may not exist as ought but the last glimmers of a dying dream?

"I would not be stars to you.

"These names suit me not.
What else have you chosen for me
With your silly thous and thees?
Or did you not think I could reject all three?"

If th—you would, I would call you mine.
Just as I would call me yours.

"I—"

And if you would not be mine or have me
I'd yet name you thus, but silently.