The Inner Musings Of A Falling Star

A star falls, and as it does so, it sees a human far below.

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So I fall.

Can you see me?

I'm here

I'm falling.

I can see you.   

 

The wind clawing at my body

tearing me apart with bloody fangs

ripping my soul from my fragile skin

like:

crisp parchment left out too long in the sun

 or

dried flower petals tossed among a gale like angels flung from Heaven

or

the clothes humans swathe themselves in when nights grow cold and leering

or

unwanted memories swept away in tides of alcohol and choking laughs.

 

Far below, the humans scuttle

like worker ants, busying and bodying around their queen's nest,

never raising their gaze from the fascinating field of dirt that stretches out-

balancing haphazardly on the smooth curve of colours-

brown to grey to black and back to brown again.

 

I'm falling.

I'm falling so, so fast,

as if every atom in my body is screaming with joy at the release from the dark embrace of the sky,

as if my very being cannot wait to sink into the dark arms of Earth.

 

But I do not want to fall.

I do not want to land at all.

 

I will, though.

And when I do, I will be nothing more than human.

My power ripped from every particle,

stranded in a feeble body surrounded by a feeble world.

 

And what would happen if you found me?

Naked

Broken

Limbs spread out at awkward angles-

like an osprey tumbling through a hurricane.

 

Would you bring me home?

Wash the dirt from my reddened skin?

Notice the light fading from my veins?

Realise that I was once so much more than human.

 

Until I fell

d

o

w

n

 

Would you ask me where I came from?

Would you ask me what had happened?

What crimes had been committed to leave me in my bloodied state?

Would you believe me if I told you?

If I said I fell from the sky

to Earth

through no fault of my own-

only that gravity's greed had become far too great,

only that gravity's pull had become far too enticing.

Would you believe me?

 

If I continued to talk...

would you listen?

I would like it if you did.

I've only ever seen you from above,

back when my arms were adorned with a million glittering diamonds,

each jewel etched into my skin,

back when my being glowed with power-

one so bright, so strong-

that you humans could see it from down below. 

 

So let us talk when I finally land.

Let us talk as equals.

For I will be just like you.

 

Tell me all about being human:

Whisper to me the stories that darken your souls.

Describe to me the winding tales of your pasts.

Sing to me the honey-soaked memories.

Scream to me the unstable web of uncertain futures.

Read to me the blood-soaked tactics behind every battle.

 

Let me tell you what I know:

I'll mutter about the fights I've borne witness to.

I'll sob about the monsters that have torn through the cosmos with shimmering claws.

I'll bleed out the tunes of the songs I have danced to,

back when the entire universe was my stage

when the sunlight was my gleaming curtain.

 

Let us talk until we're too tired to talk anymore.

Let us talk until millions of years of awareness rush back to me with an eager vengeance.

Show me where the sheep are,

so that we can count them together until I fall asleep.

 

And tomorrow you can show me how to make coffee,

and which of the morning papers are the best to read.

And then maybe we can talk some more.

 

If that's okay with you.

 

And then I'll try and make you a drink,

but will end up setting fire to the biscuits.

And maybe you'll be angry, but you'll drown in in a laugh.

So then you'll show me again.

And I'll apologise again.

But I'll try again.

 

And maybe then I'll burn my hand on the boiling water,

and I'll marvel at the crimson skin.

The way the burn spreads like blush

as you scream and thrust my hand beneath the cold tap.

And then maybe you'll bandage it for me

as the agony finally begins to seep into my bones.

 

And then maybe you'll introduce me to your television,

maybe you'll show me your favourite films-

the ones that make you laugh

the ones that make you cry

the ones that leave your chest heavy,

but your mind open to the labyrinth of possibilities this universe holds.

 

And maybe we can watch them together.

And maybe we'll fall asleep again,

my burnt skin protesting against the pressure of your palm against mine.

 

And maybe,

just maybe,

we can talk again when we wake,

when we drag the weariness from our aching bones,

and watch the sun stumble into the teal canvas of a bottomless sky.

 

And maybe you will tell me more of the worlds you have explored,

the layers of space you have peeled back

just as your psychologists do to their captured criminals.

And maybe we can continue to talk.

 

For forever, if that's okay with you.

For the rest of my life, if you don't mind too much.

Because I'll die, one day.

Now that this fall has ripped all power from my being.

 

Once, I was a star.

Soon, I will be human.

And one day, I will die.

 

But looking down at the earth,

with the air tugging at my limbs like puppet strings,

I see you

and I smile.

   

Because one day, I will die.

 

But until then,

 

I'd like to fill the fragile days between now and then

 

with you.

 

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