we exist in the liminal space
between super giants,
stretching
out between yawning suns
like rainbow ribbons—
constellations bridging
the gaps between who we are
and where we want to be.

cosmic dust
conspired to place us
on this pale blue dot
within two weeks
of one another.
we will persist
if only for the blink
of an eye.

stretched out
like an ellipsis...
a thousand miles
might as well
be a lightyear.
tell me, truly
do we trace
the same patterns
in the heavens
when we gaze
skyward?

plot a course,
trace the lines
between supernovas.
follow the star-map
to your front porch step,
hopping from one star
to another.