A/N: This is something different in this series and I'm honestly proud of this.
This is a bit short because I wrote this in one sitting and didn't want to ruin its beauty by piling more stuff that wasn't a spur of the moment thought.

So yeah that's all. Do read and especially COMMENT.
With love,
Ray
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Dear Stars,
Hey! I honestly don't know who I'm talking to so I figure that you shouldn't know who is talking either. If I'm talking to the aesthetic ones, then I'm an admirer; if I'm talking to the astrological ones, then I don't believe in you; and if I'm talking to the astronomical ones, then you already know me because I'm made out of you. Your dust. We all are.

This last concept makes me feel so peaceful because you are eternal and infinite-or at least more eternal than I can dream of being-and in that way, there's some part of me who will continue to live forever, even when my will to live dies out, made out of something so out of my league.

It also makes me wonder about the number of people with whom I share a part of me.

I read a long time ago about how the starlight-including the sunlight-that reaches us is millions of years old. In that way too, you provide me with so much philosophical comfort. Millions of years old light reaches me, only to bounce off me and reach someone else's eyes. And then, what meets their eyes is a peculiar mixture of star and me. In that moment, I'm the stars.

The one thing that naturally illuminates me was created a million years ago and now I'm one of that time, that space, one that is so beyond my comprehension.

Maybe I'm not very successfully eloquent with what I'm feeling and it is highly possible that I'm revolving around metaphors upon metaphors, not being able to tell what they actually symbolize. Despite all that, I want to talk about you, Stars, if I can't talk to you.

There is so, so much beauty in you and don't we all want to be that entity whose falling form is gorgeous too? I know that the shooting stars are technically not stars, but still. I want to be as beautiful as those meteors that even my fall to death leaves a trail of glow and murmured wishes in its wake.

As I said, I don't believe in astrological stars. Yet, when I meet that person who is made of the same stars as mine, I will be the first one to say, "Finally our stars have aligned."
Or maybe I'll just owe it to the Jovian-Plutonian Motion.**

All I know is that I love beautiful things and I can't think of many things that are more beautiful than you, Stars. In the night sky, you look like little glimpses into something completely ethereal and out of the world. In the dawn sky, you look like those fading curtains of a heavenly presence that are fading with the promise of something better for the next day.

The most common thing between you and me is that our days start at night. We're there during the day too but one of our own kind shines brighter than us and takes away our visibility. Only when that one goes down, we become visible and leave our mark upon others like us who are comforted by the night.

Your beauty bewitches me, Stars. I can't say anything that will truly describe what you are or how much you mean to me. My religion, my faith, it's very diverse and comprises of many beautiful things that others usually don't associate with the word religion. One of those is you. And I don't think there is any bigger compliment I can give.

Yours,
With all the love in the world,
Ray.

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**You can read about the prank if you just google "Jovian-Plutonian gravitational effect" but my reference takes after the book "All The Bright Places". To summarize for those who are not planning to read it, when the lead characters sleep together, the guy, Finch, talks beautifully about how he felt like those planets were aligned when that happened and how completely out of the world the experience was. I'm not explaining it well, go read it!
It's an AMAZING book, and y'all NEED to read it.