We’re told we’re made of stardust,
and maybe it’s true,
but I’ve looked under my skin
and seen nothing there
that’s inexplicable.

We are, undeniably,
human.

And yet we have an insatiable desire
to be so much
more.
More than blood, and bone,
and the imprints of our mothers and
fathers,
but in wanting this we become
something more.

We are like art
the way our hearts pump blood through our veins
without anyone showing them how.
The way we turn our thoughts into songs, poems,
creating a smile, or bringing forth tears,
just by the words that
dance off our tongues.
The way we love, uncontrollably and
unconditionally
and it’s intricate and simple
all at the same time
and we don’t need to be
made of stardust
for
we are, undeniably, remarkably,
human.