The night. It never stops. I don’t have a star of my own. I wander alone through the galaxy, I never orbit.
I float freely.
They don’t know who I am. A fallen star or a planet cast away from her system after an encounter with
Mischievous. Freely wandering.
Blinking faintly until finally becoming extinguished. Dancing in the dark forever.
Another night. Dark.
Your core being easily enters my being.
I close my eyes and sway. You are moving with me, too. You, too. You, too. They don’t know who I am.
Neither do I know who they are. I embrace every person behind my eyelids. And everyone next to me.
Yes, and you. You, too. Everyone is a planet for themselves. The core is moving. The core being of the
universe. Everyone is moving. Everyone embraces the stars within themselves.
All that is is what I see behind my eyes closed, and behind the lens. What is in me, what is in you.
Imagine. Just imagine. Tomorrow doesn’t exist. From tomorrow. It is already tomorrow. What do you
see now? Now.
Dark. And colors. Shapes – turning one into the other. A dot, a triangle, a square, a rhombus, a hexagon.
Honeycomb, a bee, a flower, a field. A blanket, the skin. And sweat. Dance. Your hand.
My hand. Whose hand?
And the core being flows.
We are the children of the night. And we search for something in the dark. Our hands move through the
dark. Some just wandering to find, and some searching for something special exactly.
Everyone is a planet for themselves. But I have no path of my own. I want to be everywhere. Here and
there. Nowhere in particular. If my hands find you. They will find the firefly in the dark.
If my lens catches you. It will catch the whole universe.