The stars are so very far away. Further than you and I can fathom. Could they be within our reach? Stars are lonely but we might visit them to slake their thirst for humanity. Would this help? Doubtful. A star’s life is a solitary life. Burning slow like a candle or popping like an old light bulb stars don’t choose, they just do. Small and dense or so big that they collapse in on themselves, stars live a life we can not imagine. Young in the millions, old in the hundreds. Death is always at hand, somewhere. Supernova.
What would we have in this world without stars? Not much, some gases, maybe… We can ponder life without stars, yet our very pondering would be absent if it were not for the stars. Metal, silicon, complex chains of protein and amino acid — all thanks to the stars. The Stars might be our destination but what is our starting point?
The stars they do not worry or care, they just are. We on the other hand, hurry, hurry, to the next banality. Missing our chance at stardom. So disconnected are we, that we overload the beauty that is a star with the ultimate in banality: a person, idolized, captured on film, enshrined by the masses into the collective conscious. Hardly a star, hardly even human. We can not worship stars, of any kind. This is folly. Worship is folly. Our lot is to cast about looking for the spark of happiness, the thing that makes us continue. That might even make us feel fulfilled. Stars, they just do not care. Stars just are.
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