star

Like a star, I am invisible to most while the light shines brightly.
However, during a cycle of darkness, I shine and am sparkling from great distances.

If you want to be a star, focus on the stars.

Every passing hour brings the Solar System forty-three thousand miles closer to Globular Cluster M13 in Hercules, and still there are some misfits who insist that there is no such thing as progress.

Fascinatingly, Fritz Albert Popp’s research in biophotons describes the dying process of cells as virtually identical to that of stars. Just before dying, cells transform into “supernovas” as the light they emit increases in intensity a thousand times before being suddenly extinguished. On a related note, and just as extraordinarily, Galactic Center, our point of origin, is located in the constellation Ophiuchus, “the serpent bearer,” an obvious reference to the spiraling, serpentine helixes of DNA. Here, in ancient symbolism, we find a direct link between the creational torsion waves emitted by Galactic Center and the DNA molecule to which, by all indications, they give rise.

Born alone to escape thoughts conceived within a dying star.

We are bits of stellar matter that got cold by accident, bits of a star gone wrong.

Life is a shooting star, burn bright.

... That thou canst not stir a flower
Without troubling of a star.

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark,
That looks on tempests and is never shaken.
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom,
If this be error, and upon me prov'd,
I never writ, nor no man ever lov'd.