This is a poem I wrote almost ten years ago in the midst of one of my (many) existential crises. I must have watched an episode of Cosmos, or something, around that time. I always enjoy those types of programs, shows like A History of the Universe, and Through the Wormhole. Particularly when I am going through a gloomy period, struggling to find any meaning in the world, science and nature documentaries help remind me that I am still a part of something larger and far more infinite than my own struggles, and that maybe I shouldn’t give up just yet.

Bits of Stars

Lowliest grain
To highest heaven,
We journey out
To find ourselves;
Seeing all,
Yet knowing nothing,
We stumble often
Along the way.

Fragile creatures.
We are promise,
Filled with hope
And such despair;
Climbing high,
Then quickly falling,
Losing ground
While gaining speed.

We miss so much
Yet always linger,
Finding it hard
To turn away;
Bound to glory
And to fault,
Strength and weakness
Struggle on.

Light and dark,
They meet within us,
Creating the spark
Of life itself;
Brains to bones,
All we are, is dirt
And bits of stars,
Shining darkly.