Stardust

Naming things, we can begin to feel
attached to them. Once we form their 
names in our mouths, it's as if any 
previous speechlessness finds a tarmac 
from which to take off. A destination 
is implied; a state, or a substance. 
The solidity of landing. But in truth, 
everything— namer and named or unnamed— 
is ephemera. Dust from the universe,
dewdrop condensed on the blade of a leaf
early in the morning. After you were born,
I looked into your eyes and for a moment
felt like falling into an ancient vastness.
How vast we are too, and also how small.