Do the stars ever turn back toward us or are they only made to be witnessed, never to witness?
Do they ever comprehend the quiet wars within a human heart the silences heavier than sound, the words that dissolve before they are spoken, the emotions that arrive fully formed yet never find a language to survive in? Do they ever know that beneath their ancient light, countless lives are unfolding in fragile stillness waiting, hoping, aching for even the smallest confirmation that they are not unseen?
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