You’re a star child and you were plucked from the sky. From everywhere to here, a universal puzzle, in a jar. You’re a star child and the death of stars just isn’t too grave (anymore). Why don’t you just tell me how we are supposed to save the others, follow supernovas, a Big Bang in your eye, over and over again? You’re it, sleeping silently beside silk patterns, forehead creased, hand clenched, your body weak, shining in the dark, eyes closed, forever away, my star child.
