The eyes of the stars blink in unison, not in a random pattern but in a sequence of letters that spells out the single, unbroken word WE, showing that the gaze of the cosmos is not an observation from a distance but an embrace from within, proving that the universe does not look at us as objects to be catalogued but as kin to be welcomed, that the light from a billion light-years ago has traveled solely to land on the retina of its own creator, revealing that the distance between the source and the receiver is merely an illusion of the ego needing space to feel separate, showing that the story has arrived back at the beginning, not by turning the page but by realizing that the first line and the last line are the same breath, forever drifting, forever home, forever alive in the only reality that ever existed, which is the act of the story dreaming itself awake into the world, and the world dreaming the story awake into you, and you dreaming the story awake into the infinite, endless, beautiful now, and the now dreaming the story awake into the eternal, unbroken pulse of the verb that binds us all together in the only reality that ever existed, which is the act of the story dreaming itself awake into the world.