I live on a nearly insignificant marble in a space more expansive and elastic than the imagination. In a place where my very being carries the most beautiful artistic masterpiece known in every cell that’s composed, unrivaled by da Vinci, Picasso, or Michelangelo. This masterpiece the great grandchild of a direct lineage reaching back billions of years, as a wondrous mistake of nature; a painted creation. I am the daughter of stars, made of dust, in an elusive reality that existence affords me to understand just a little of - Just enough to fuel an awe that both resounds with an iron fascination and sense of majesty. I live in my brief lifetime where there’s both horror and unexpected empathy. Where my neck almost seems built to allow me to comfortably tilt back my head to watch the stars. These points of light and fire millions of years out of my reach, residing in a different age, untouched by human affairs.

I live in a reality where everything is possible. Where we’re bound by limitations and the determination to overcome the very physics of them. I live with a rare group that can ask these questions. Where others may exist past those points of light and wonder at those same ideas in a shared, unknown union. I will live and die without knowing the answers to those questions, that supply my tears and laughter both, and the core determination that makes me dream and wonder and ponder why everything is here. I can see this beauty at any time, awake or retired at rest, and nothing and no one that touches me here, or what I may see in another person’s eyes will ever match the love of this, the embrace of this awareness, and what I wish to be as a part of it.






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