They say we are the smallest of stars
our elements burned through those mighty fires
and somehow fell to our humble shoulders
and our humble muscles, and sinews and skins

We raise our eyes and gaze upon wonders we can never truly comprehend
and  yet, when we are finally forced to blink away from all the brightness,
our eyes land on such beautiful things, and rest on such wonderful shapes

What is waking but to remember ones dreams? What is dreaming but to understand ones sight? senseless questions that tumble out like ribbons of heat belted to the Sun by great bands of invisible force. The tiniest of stars in each of our eyes.