I am a star. Effulgent, glorious, and strong. And I am falling.

I tear across space, across epochs; I know not how long I journey; stars bear no concept of time. My heat is a cocoon, a womb; I die and am born anew in each moment.

I witness the turning of galaxies, with their grand starry arms, and wonder how many souls burn to keep each one alive. I see an entire solar system eaten by its collapsing sun. I watch worlds turn and turn and then crumble. I behold the universe’s many facets: mother of duality, death and creation her hands. I realize that destruction may be my fate, too . . .

But for now I am pulled toward some destination, regions unknown. I could as soon stop or change direction as tell another star to cease to be. What awaits me? From where have I come? I ask these questions endlessly, as if trying to fill all space and time with ponderings. How did I come to be on this voyage? What fate sent me so far from home?

Time expands, becomes a pool: bottomless, brimming with moments different yet the same, each one beautiful yet grander still when part of the tapestry that is me, my existence. My sojourn across the cosmos becomes another fragment, forming the whole that is I am.

And only then, when wondering gives way to infinitude, when the succession of eras and passing nebulae has come to fill all my expectations, do I finally begin to slow.

Soon, I fear, I will forget this too.

Next Chapter: ii.