The sea had always watched the stars.
Not with envy, but with a kind of aching wonder.
So distant. So quiet. So full of light.
The siren sang up at them in the hush between tides,
sent salt-soft prayers across the surface,
hoping the stars might hear her.
And one night, they did.
Tiny pieces of light drifted down,
not as fire,
but as something gentler.
They settled in tidepools,
wrapped in silence and seafoam,
and the sea cradled them as her own.
That’s why starfish still shimmer like distant wishes—
because once, the sea dreamed of the sky,
and the sky answered.
