Supernova

What are stars, really?

High above
Pinprick sequins
Beautiful
Dead
Lights.
I am a time traveler.
This is their past.
This is their life.

They say we are all
Made of stardust.
Supernova.
Shining so brilliantly
For one second
Death outshines
Galaxies.

Ashes to ashes
Stardust to starlight.
Become what you were.
Someday your great great
Grandest child
Will gaze at the sky
In beautiful awe
At the light

Of that crack head
Drooling next to you
On the Friday night bus.