I am a puzzle, my pieces scattered across time and space. Some are so distant they seem to reside among the constellations. One of these elusive fragments finds its way into Orion, returning to form with me at sunrise, only to vanish again by afternoon, leaving me searching for myself once more.

Still whole, I remain a work in progress, with many pieces left to discover and countless constellations still to trace in the night sky. I know they exist in the shadows between the stars—those spaces are only revealed when you stop desperately seeking them. It's like misplacing a set of car keys; you can spend an hour searching, only to find they were sitting in plain sight all along. Yet, I continue to search. I strive to outline my edges, seeking the pieces hidden within my memories—the particles of this life and the lives before, maybe even those yet to unfold. With outstretched hands, I trace the constellations where I sense my lost selves lie in hiding, each representing a version of me I no longer recognize but long to reconnect with. In Draco, the dragon constellation, I believe my creativity may be concealed. Over there in Boötes, I spy a frozen little girl, and I wonder if that could be me. And look, in Pegasus, isn’t that my imagination? Is that where my dreams escape when I can’t seem to recall them? My pieces have slipped away into eternity, and I am but a fragment—a sliver of light, a spark of a star, woven into the vast expanse of the cosmos.

In tarot, The Lovers card reveals two reflections of the same self. This duality, this interplay of light and shadow, whispers to our inner puzzles. We should cherish each piece and fragment as a lover honors their beloved. We are not a singular, complete being; instead, we are an infinite collection of scattered pieces, constantly evolving. We are a tapestry woven from stardust, ever in a state of becoming.