That Star

I hunger but nothing sates me. The moon invites me but I prefer the night dark. I pray to a mute god that he might grant me a star. That he might separate it from the night and let it fall upon my being. That its weight diminishes and erases me from the memory of this ocean of flesh that drowns me. I pray that he might convert me into a thick liquid, and that liquid might spill and completely cover its stellar body. So that maybe at a cosmic distance, someone might mistake me for the brilliance of that star.