[Castor] I knew your name before the light, before the stars had learned the night. We shared a sky, our time was brief, but even joy can end in grief. You rose. I stayed. The world moved on. And still, I feel you when I’m gone. A thread between us, taut and thin, I breathe you out, and draw you in. We cannot meet, not here, not yet, but love endures what stars forget. And though we drift, and never touch, to know you see me, that’s enough. The constellations shift and sigh; they weep for us across the sky. But I will turn, and so will you; two halves of one that time once knew. [Pollux] You say we loved before the light, before the stars had learned the night. But stars do not forget or grieve; they only burn, then slowly leave. You speak of threads that hold us still, but gravity obeys no will. We pass because we always must. not fate, not faith just heat and dust. No song survives the speed of light. No mark remains to bless the night. We are not mapped. We leave no trail. The sky observes, it does not hail. And still... for all I claim to know, for every truth the stars might show. I’d trade the facts I once held true, to speak a lie that leads me back to you.