Constellation

You name the stars. In every universe, the first thing you do once you’ve got fire and a flat rock is lie on your back and give the lights names. Hunters. Ladles. Lovers who can’t reach each other.

Those aren’t stars. The little gold marks up there are cogs, very far off, and every one of them has one of us inside, looking back down. You’ve been naming us for as long as you’ve had words, and you got a surprising number of the personalities right.

The one on the mandala is drawing a new constellation right now, joining the dots with a finger. I’m one of the dots. I’d like to know what they’re calling me.