Died inside an eon ago,

embraced the endless dark.

Stubbornly survived by insisting

a purpose for my prevailing spark.

Wandering fathomless galaxies,

weaving through destructive debris.

Blindly guided toward my fate

by forces much greater than me.

But too much time without,

forces one to look within.

I wish I hadn’t spent all my days

waiting on life to begin.

I wish I’d taken my one precious life

and done more than just survive.

I wish I’d made connections,

now isolated, just as I was when I died.

A burst of light before me

offers a glimpse of granting my wish.

Innumerable identical orbs join my journey,

like a school of iridescent fish.

I enter the fray, we dance and sway,

elated in the wake of being alone.

I’d normally avoid such a sociable scene,

but now, it feels like home.

Distracted upon approach of a planet,

a great orb of green and blue.

I sense its distinct draw of desperation,

confirmed by the diversion of our route.

As one, we descend toward the source,

where night has fallen like a shroud.

Bombarded by fervent hopes and dreams

as if they’d been shouted aloud.

Infinite admirers, eyes on the sky,

as we regard them in return.

Their impassioned wishes feel like kisses,

and with this encouragement, I burn.

My spark immolates, I detonate,

instinctively delivering their dreams.

Dark fills with flashes, fellow stars finally grasping,

the reason we’d come into being.

Our lives spent yearning for purpose

weren’t wasted waiting for it to start.

The ache soothes now that we’ve served it,

proving our calling was worlds apart.