Take a star, any star,
what do you see?
A small figure, wisp of smoke curling off a flame;
a person who s
l
i
p
s through your fingers
when you reach out for them.
Do you see the void surrounding the star?
The yawning distance that grows wider over time?
I see it, the alienation and loneliness,
the figure standing on the edge of Valles Marineris
whose hand reaches for a lifeline.
Do you wonder why they burn like cold fire to the touch?
Isolation turns into solace;
smiles and tears and rosy red cheeks burn
until there is nothing but ash and apathy.
They are the wisp of smoke, the figure teetering on the edge.
Look again.
Wait...
The void embraces the star:
protects it, loves it, keeps it whole,
like a mother's embrace.
An astronaut s the rocky walls of the chasm
b
m
i
l
c
scuffed hands and knees, determination in tired eyes.
The void, the astronaut,
are one and the same;
willing to crawl through black holes and wormholes
all for the figure, the star.
A small star in the endless night sky—
one in millions, billions,
t r i l l i o n s
—yet the astronaut only loves them.
