me at 3 am, lying on an iceberg stretched on a picnic blanket, eating mangoes and asking the stars: how to trust people & make friends & be loved without having to reveal anything about myself ever

But until the sun burns us to dust
We dive into oceans of old
We swim under skies of centuries
Until our home galaxy becomes maelstrom and maker
We light candles and watch fireflies dance
We breathe another day. And burn on

we are still here

And deep down, you know it as surely and certainly as the moon orbit the planet that brought you into existence:
You are desperate to learn. You’d do anything to understand. There’s no path you wouldn’t walk, no ocean you wouldn’t cross to study the whispers of flaring energy between stars or the growl-told stories of evolution shining from the eyes of an apex predator.
Everything inside you screams for another glimpse inside the universe. Through the ribcage, behind matter and light, you yearn for an explanation of it all.
So be desperate. Be stunned. Stand in awe and full of questions so that you always find a spark of curiosity even when the world tries to fill you with darkness.
You’re an explorer.
You’re here to learn.

to you. to her. to him. to anyone who’s afraid of the dark tonight.