And the stars, with burning hearts, burning hurts, scattered across the universe. Words like "spectacular," "incredible," could not even begin to describe the slow, shuffling queue these stars now stood in. In their own way, inevitable as millenia, they moved forward. Their outer layers shed, their cores grew. Eventually, they would die, but not here. Here, they would each shine a fingerprint's spectrum, a smiling rainbow, across the universe. The hope is that somewhere out there, someone is looking. Not even that someone will find them: just looking.
This is the line for the bakery. There is a sale on pumpernickel. If that's what it takes to convince you.
Underneath, each star was roiling with energy, vibrating, a contest between gravity, nuclear fire, and luminosity. Light, fighting to the surface, escaped from the seams in cracks and flares.
A swirling, invisble magnetic field surrounds each one. It reaches out to the space around it, curling its fist over emptiness. Gravity, too. It reaches further still, keeping in orbit a debris field that whirls in a cosmic merry-go-round. Clouds of dust collapse down to a single rock which is then sent hurtling out of the solar system.
As these giants pass in the street, their range of forces intersect for a moment, rejecting and ejecting matter alternatively in equilibrium until they are too distant. Untold trillions of kilograms, and they are too distant. Shuffling through oblivion, and they are too distant.
One star, brighter than the rest, shedding mass, ready to collapse, smiles briefly at you. You, forsaking gravity, follow it down the sidewalk.
Blue Star by Adriana Casellato (source image)
Stars by shoofle