My father had told me
The purest of all forms of love, even though a million miles apart, is that of the Sun for Earth.
We all become stars after we die. Because that’s where we come from and that’s where we ought to return.
My mom once asked me, while I was counting the stars,
How would I recognize her in a sky filled with billions of stars, when she becomes one herself?
That put me in a distinct corner of the space-time juncture.
I have finally found the one among zillion of others.
A star whose light always nourishes me
The one and only selfless one