Promises

Here at the path's divide, I hear you speak of our collision, The clashing of nebula's, Birth of the stars, Bright lights of colors wide And shining behemoths of new sight, The parting of such things, Brought about by the cycles of gravity, Our collision becomes division, Pulled into place, Falling our ways, Drifting through the void Undefined regions towards The better parts of space, The mass and matter clusters, They pull heavily on our way, And away we are pulled, Endlessly in our separate directions, No east or west, no up or down, But those stars will never forget, Even as they swell into red, Bloat and grow, expand until bound, Eventually explode, Sharing their life and projecting, New materials into new non-sentient Living memories, the important part of existence, Our meaning and promise was made, That if ever our airless sky was to grow dark, We would float on and find, A way to collide once more, So the stars would relight, That we may find beauty in that night.