What is

There is distance now, more than perhaps ever.  He surrounds himself with devices of his own making, culled and shaped into shapes alien to their origins.  She shelters herself away from places that would stir her soul and silences the voices that call to her, drowning them out in a cacophony of blaring lights and bright sounds, away, away, away.

And yet, when the garrulous sun's rays falter behind the horizon, and the hand of night stretches over their sliver of the world, they look up, and amongst the eerie glow of civilization's pulsating presence sparkle miniscule and faraway and dead stars whose light has outraced galaxies to shine for a brief moment on their speck of the world. 

And wonder and terror fill them and dread and hope and of all, there is beauty, because in that pause they can feel their hearts beat and their muscles ache from the strain and they realize that, no matter what else they may ever do, they are part of creation, and always will be.

They are of stars, and of the Earth, and the water and millet. 

They are One, all of them, all things, all creation.

They are beautiful.

They shine.