I want to weave the starlight,
To manifest the stuff of dreams.
To make something that is mine and worthwhile.
To be something that is mine and worthwhile.

How can it feel like I have done nothing but toil
Yet all I have was freely given?
How can I have exhausted myself
Yet have only gifts in my hands?

I have given everything
But built nothing that still stands
A firmament held up
By pillars of void and sand

I am blessed
I am cursed
I am blessed

I have built nothing but a trail of pyres.
Yet, I live in abundance.
Am I a goddess of fire after all, not the blessed Thalia?

A Ram in fish's clothing
Unfit to build or plant
Yet living with the built
And thriving among the planted

Needing
Bleeding
Unaccomplished
And Loved

What more could I even hope for
As master of the lit match in flight.