I Touched the Star Through the Scar The star in chromatic screen, held in your hands, pushed away in your mind. Focus, it whispers softly: stay in its locus, the sacred geometry. I reached, just barely— and touched it, even if only on the surface. An immense feeling, like an emotigraphic glow. I wonder if these frequencies move beyond one-dimensional language, vis-à-vis the way 710 Hz becomes violet light, where snowflake meets galactic core. To care, or to cure what life resists, becoming. Maybe the star was never that far. Now that I think on it, maybe these are the shapes our crystalline glass makes, fractured healing, like a prism peak, each shard reflecting the whole, the immense nebulæ. I touched the star through the scar I had, you vouched the night through the spark you lit Each fracture in the glass vouched for the moment we didn’t break just transformed, into the shattered frictions
