I stare at the stars. They are so close yet so far away. I admire the stars and they know nothing of me. I long to be warmed by their rays and nearer to them. They are a danger to me. Like Ikarus to the sun or like a moth to the fire. I wish the stars were not so far...there are millions of them, many of them in pairs...many explode many have children orbiting around them. Like our star.
The stars have no use for me. They deny me access with distance. They tell me "No"...they tease me and run from me...red shifting...red shifting my face to shame.
Stars will be the death of me. I want to be around them...be in them...be a part of them. I feel I am made from them. I know they are a part of me and I long to commune with them. I have seen their auroras...watched their morning glow...gazed upon their sunsets and risen when they say and gone to bed as they ask. I have burned myself upon their intense heat and run to the cold distance of their systems to hide from the them. I am a million miles away and a million lifetimes hopelessly isolated and marooned from the stars. They are my peace, my bane...my hope and my shame.
There is nothing I can do to be at peace about them. No fix for my banishment. No amount of patience to meet the stinging urgency and no stopping the expansion of my universe...leading to endless distance and a cold, dark, ashen, silent isolation.