It is often only when we come to the end that we realise we are made of both stars and dust.
A part of us floating upwards, another sinking down.
A part of us mingling with the clouds, another with the seeds.
A part of us joining the light, another merging with the darkness.
If only we realised that now, while we are still the link between the two places.
Neck stretching high and feet pressed firmly on the ground.
Eyes witnessing the cosmos and toes digging in to the dirt.
A channel for the divine and a replica of the mother.
What miracles we are to be made of star-dust.
Neither element better than the other.
Combined a force to reckon with.
A gift bestowed on us and yet rarely received in full.
With this knowing, stars are not just stars,
They are the faces of all who we’ve ever loved.
And dust is not just dust,
It forms the open arms of all those who’ve ever held us.
And we, the blessed ones, who still get to feel that love.
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