The blaze sits inside a nest of little
worlds, still to distant to share its heat
but plainly staring out of you. A face
emerges, drawn from plasmas and
radiation...

There must be meanings in its roar.

You listen hard and carefully, and
sometimes a lucid melody seems to
rise out of random noise, pulling your
mind into moments where it seems
possible that answers are about to be
revealed. Joy builds, and the first hope
in ages transforms you.

It seems important, even critical, to tell
every star from here to the black
between the galaxies that you are
strong again.