Dream of the stars, for one day you'll be one.
by Benjamin Sorvel
Just remember who you are, and where you came from.
You're the product of an accident, we're all the same.
And I don't mean your parents, but from wence we came.
We emerge, we breathe, we laugh, we cry.
We kiss and smile, but we always die.
They say the good die young, and perhaps that's true.
But you're almost perfect, why not take you?
The truth of the matter, is we'll never leave.
There's no pattern to decipher, but there is a reprieve;
We're stuff of the stars, from the atoms within.
We decease and return, from where we begin.
Sometimes the best, are the one's who leave fast.
But even in heaven, shadows can be cast.
So dream I say, dream, of the skies and the stars.
For one day you'll return, and become one of ours.