The Stargazer “Each person is their own universe.” A cherished saying, a guiding star in my own sky. Each person is their own luminous maze of galaxies, constellations, and wonders yet to be discovered. To be pulled in by their orbit, to float among the stars of their minds and souls— each encounter leaves an impression upon my own universe. Mesmeric, otherworldly. I drift through a sea of starlight, skim the rings of distant planets, and leap toward a hazy cloud blooming in turquoise and citrine. Every horizon opens into another, each carrying me a little farther, until Earth is just a small blue light below. Sometimes, a sudden collision sends me falling back to Earth with the force and heat of a meteor. Other times, it’s simply the gravity of reality— the passing hours, the distance between worlds, the ordinary things that bid me home— reminding me that floating isn’t forever. Yet the wonder remains. The galaxies I’ve wandered, the constellations I’ve traced, the little worlds I’ve discovered— each has left something of its light in mine. I long to endlessly drift again among the lights and streaks of color each universe can offer. But sometimes, a familiar light passes through my sky, and I remember the worlds I once wandered through. For now, my telescope rests beside me; even from Earth, their light still reaches me. I don’t know which worlds I’ll wander through again, or what new constellations might someday fill my sky. But how lovely to have seen their light. And still, I find myself looking up.