singularity

It is time to become as stable as a giant piece of rock floating through space.  A sleeping, dreaming, igneous-being.  No one is an island, so they say, but maybe we can aspire to be heavenly bodies.  We will have terrifying molten hearts that construct and destroy, and an outward visage that may in time learn to sustain other life than our own.  Three-hundred and sixty degrees of face to perpetually greet the shining stars, our distant relatives speaking to us across eons.  Imperfect spheres, orbs, glittering in the emptiness, head and heart pulsing within as one fire.