Put your hands to the stars. Eyes up to the shining abyss of night. The constellations call for my name. Our names are written up there, maybe in a universe not far from our own. Do we stray from the stars intentionally? Perhaps our beliefs leave us grounded, and it is our fault. No. I am, stars. The world never was permanent. I was never permanent. Yes, perhaps. That is the answer. It is not our fault. We lie down, deep in earth to be absorbed into a cycle we never chose. Our impermanence has caused our own downfall. So why do I feel so incomplete? What is right and wrong mean nothing out there. Our world is not boundless, it’s locked within tantalizing parameters. I must let go. Nothing means anything. My choices will result in the same result. Breathe that air of freedom… of life. And death. A mix of illusion and reality. Uniposition. It has already happened. Why not make it happen now? … I’ve already reached a star. I’ve lost everything in my grasp. It is not my fault. The world is the one to pay the debt it owes.
