In the twisted relay of light I see the nebula that was my birthing ground. Its radiance surrounds me with heat and color. Bursting clouds and arching forms in writhing wings of gossamer, painted with hydrogen and illuminated from within by the glow of its children.
Mother nebula had formed me, along with my sisters, from parts of herself. Coaxing and coalescing until we were strong enough enough to shine on our own. Then she breathed into us life and our hearts began to flutter with the embers of fusion.
In our mother’s embrace, I played with my sisters, plunging into misted veils and swinging through spangled swaths of life-dust. She would tell us tales of the far reaches of the galaxy, where the giants dance