There is no death when stars implode
A stream of atoms coalesce in some temporary terminus…
A planet, a person, a life.
We are made of stars yet blindly grope
For fame and immortality, for hope.
If we could only see our brilliance
Or that we are the true alien wanderers,
That we are one and never alone
And already home,
We would find our place in infinity.
Mary E. Fleisch