But what does each of the planets think of itself?
The stars we so desperately admire?
The heavens, riddled with bright spots
we forged stories from, and traced beings into
Do they not see themselves as floating rocks
Speckled with dirt and moon rocks, of eons of
blemish and hardship.
Yet us, throughout our time here
would look up at the sky
every night and wonder how
we can be as grand, as magnificent, as
breathtaking as they are.
Forgetting how from lightyears away
we too still sparkled stardust.