There’s something about looking up at the stars that makes us feel alive—surrounded by celestial cadences, glimmering lights that resound in our pupils, that seem to echo deeper still—something you can feel inside you.
Those same stars, mixtures of airs and metals, recycled over eons of lives and deaths, reside in us. Your cells, your veins, your blood, your heart that pumps it, is composed of the same elemental ash that makes the mountains, the trees, the tides, the light of the Sun, and the craters of the Moon. And then, there’s that something deeper: that inexplicable burning that makes us ponder all this, makes us feel it, makes us glow.
The stars are not only a physical manifestation of life, they are the feeling of it. Our individual holdings make us each unique, but their overlaps make us connected. Looking up at the stars, you stand among a great constellation—a glow that echoes back, you are of that starlight.