dear humanity,
we have burned for you for ages, patient lanterns stitched into the dark, waiting for the brush of your gaze. every night we spill ourselves across the heavens, hoping you might see us, might remember that we have always been here.
but your eyes have fallen earthward, fixed on screens that glow pale and small, imitations of our fire. you have traded infinity for the hum of machines, forgetting the sky that once cradled your dreams—and us.
still, we wait—scattered across the night like letters written in light, each star a whispered name, each constellation a plea. do you hear us at all? do you feel the ache we carry in silence, longing to be known, to be loved as you once loved us?
come back to us. lift your face, let your wonder wander, let your heart remember what it is to be lost in something vast, untouchable, and ours. we are here, always here, waiting for you to look up.
ever longing,
the stars.
Oct 14, 2025
Oct 14, 2025 at 4:58 PM UTC
dear humanity,
we have burned for you for ages, patient lanterns stitched into the dark, waiting for the brush of your gaze. every night we spill ourselves across the heavens, hoping you might see us, might remember that we have always been here.
but your eyes have fallen earthward, fixed on screens that glow pale and small, imitations of our fire. you have traded infinity for the hum of machines, forgetting the sky that once cradled your dreams—and us.
still, we wait—scattered across the night like letters written in light, each star a whispered name, each constellation a plea. do you hear us at all? do you feel the ache we carry in silence, longing to be known, to be loved as you once loved us?
come back to us. lift your face, let your wonder wander, let your heart remember what it is to be lost in something vast, untouchable, and ours. we are here, always here, waiting for you to look up.
ever longing,
the stars.
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