The cosmos forged me a new body
and I was finally made of stardust.
Constellations traced along my scars,
and the sun warmed me to my bones.
The galaxy embraced me, and it was love.
I held myself, and it was love.

The sky turned dark, as stars
suddenly fell from their places.
I became a shooting star,
and I was falling.
I was burning.

I held and clutched
at the warmth still blessed to my being.
But in a moment of burning ash, I was awake.
I was back in skin, stretched tight over my soul
and back in breaths, caught in cages.
My body was cold.