Am.

Sing down the stars, my love, bring them close to you. Fill up your eyes and lungs with them and settle into the comfort of the dark.

She builds you up just as She tears you down. The Sky is a fickle thing and she won’t give you what you think you need. The Sky can be a fickle thing.

Inhale that dusty light from the Moon. Take it in, swallow up all of those fumes. Darling, you are eternity and we are all here hoping to catch a little something that makes us feel less like our ghosts do. We are who we are, who are You?

Take this calm settling into your soul, Dearling, take what you’ve always known. You are fire burning up starry climbs and plumes of smoke taking flight, you are of the Universe and it’s okay to embrace your power. Your might.

It’s okay to love the feeling of powerful words, thunderous songs that leave them gasping for a little more air. It’s okay to leave them behind, there.

Pluck each speck of light that spills from the depths of the Sky. She would want to share. You are fierce, Dear, you and the Sky have the same wild hair. You are one in the same and it’s okay to proudly tell them your name.

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