stardust

But what does each of the planets think of itself?

The stars we so desperately admire?

The heavens, riddled with bright spots

we forged stories from, and traced beings into

fruition.

Do they not see themselves as floating rocks

and gases?

Speckled with dirt and moon rocks, of eons of

blemish and hardship.

Yet us, throughout our time here

would look up at the sky

every night and wonder how

we can be as grand, as magnificent, as

breathtaking as they are.

Forgetting how from lightyears away

we too still sparkled stardust.