They say that the stars twinkling in the inky canopy overhead are dead to us. So hot that they shimmer. So out of reach that we can hold out our hands to them, finding nothing but air ticking our palms when we pull them back. They say, stars are much like aspirations. Bright, shiny dreams that will forever be unattainable, and long gone before we can capture them. Well what do they know? We are stars. We are our dreams. We are our own aspirations. We are inspiration, and we will light the way for one another. We are stars.