We are made of stardust

Little particles of light
strewn together
to form
a world
so complex,
so imperfectly perfect.

And here I sit

in the midst
of it all,
longing for a feeling
not captured
in the explosions
of extraterrestrial
balls of light.

Who am I
to want something more
than the notion of being,
if nothing else,

made of stars.

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