“We are all made of star stuff”

Because we are all teetering
On this verge of glowing—
And burning

A glittering twinkle twisted in hope
Or an impending explosion

Carrying the potential of wishful serenity
In the exterior of sparkling danger
Holding a wistful beauty all the same

If it makes us good —
Or bad
Depends on the day
Stars were never so easy to explore
And humans are near impossible to see

In the end it’s our fallen remains
That shoot across the sky for someone else
To wish upon