Just a poem I whipped up in a short story I've been whittling away at.


We are stardust. Or at least
93 percent of us.
We speak of our stardust
and our starlight
and we speak as if we are not
Us.

But we have traveled to
the very edge of the Universe
And Beyond.
Our bones danced over the suns,
Our blood flowed in the veins of long-dead planets.
Our brains spoke the language of the stars and
Our soul breathed
Life and Death.

We are stardust.
We speak of our stardust
and our starlight
and we speak as if we are
Different.
We are Dying Stars.
But we are beautiful.