Eyes
the stars
made eyes
so they could be seen.
Volume II · Text
Beneath These Stars
A sequence on consciousness, Earth, life, and inheritance.
Prologue · Seeing
I · Origin
Mother
All my life
I have tried
to understand you.
Earth beneath me,
stars above me,
and you between them,
holding both.
I looked into you
and found myself.
Inheritance
The Sun
is my first inheritance
from the cosmos.
I belong
to its light,
and my life
is my answer
to having received it.
Light That Refuses to Die
a dying sun · one thousand years · one hundred thousand years · one million years · Earth · an eye
I, too, am made
of light
that refuses to die.
II · Consciousness
Ocean of Consciousness
The sea
is awake
inside me.
I am not apart,
nor am I the whole,
just the sea
dreaming itself
as a soul.
The Lanterns
Each soul is a lantern
in the night,
lit by the same
eternal flame.
We call it love
when two lanterns meet,
their lights overlapping
for a while.
And in that moment,
the universe smiles,
for it sees itself
reflected twice.
III · Allegiance
Oath
The stars shine on forests
as willingly
as they shine on us.
Who am I
to make humanity
the measure of everything?
My loyalty
belongs
to all life.
Wisdom
If I seek wisdom,
let it be wisdom
that serves all life.
IV · Legacy
Reach
Let my children,
or their children,
stand beneath
another sun
and know
that once,
on this small Earth,
we loved the stars
enough
to reach them.
Coda
Death of the UniversePause Before Silence
The cosmos opened its eyes
and borrowed mine
to watch itself fade
wondering
whether it would dream again.
I am the pause
before silence.
Through me,
the universe sees its end.
For one moment,
it remembers itself.
Afterword
Beneath the Stars
Beneath the Stars begins with a desire to understand the universe and ends with a desire to carry life toward it.
The “you” I have sought all my life is not separate from me. I am star made, a fragment of the universe through which it has become conscious, contemplated itself, and felt wonder before its own mystery.
The sun is my first inheritance means the particular star whose light nourished me into being. My life is an answer to that light: light becoming life, then thought, then purpose.
The sea is the whole dreaming itself as a soul. Each soul is a lantern, another form in which the universe becomes visible to itself. To love another is to recognize the same light elsewhere.
From that recognition comes an oath, not only to humanity, but to life itself. Wisdom is therefore an obligation to preserve what has awakened here and carry it toward the stars.
Death of the Universe is the final shadow beneath that hope. Even intelligence may one day disappear. Yet for one moment, through us, the universe has opened its eyes, witnessed its own beauty, remembered itself, and contemplated its own death.