The Clock Waits Patiently On Your Song (the stars call)

My body is starting to shed its qualities that make me human. My hair, my skin, my nails, my soul. Maybe it's noticeable, but I'm slowly becoming less of a person, my whole life glitching before my eyes, revealing where I wish I was all the time. Up there, in the sky, in space. The stars call to my heart and I weep for my return to the fragments of the universe, where I felt larger and more important. I wasn’t supposed to have a body, I'm an ethereal light that is everywhere all the time for eternity. So what is this? I was expelled from my peaceful existence and my contents were poured into a mold of skin and flesh that embodies all the wrong doings, dysfunctions and instability of humanity. Surely it’s for a reason? Or perhaps the universe needed a test subject, combining all their little chemicals and substances into a glass vial and injecting it into my bloodstream, awaiting a reaction. How much can the human take until its mere small existence dissipates into ash? Until the blade is running their neck or the medication bottle is empty. Was that my purpose? To be caged in a shell in a world of torment and hierarchy with no chance of a happy ending? Why does earth have to be cruel and lethal? It’s unknown to me, I've lived many lives in complete tranquility, so why now set my next mission on an uncaring planet with no ammo? Many questions plague my mind, along with no answers. All I can do is plead for the universe to contribute in giving me advice to keep going and complete my cycle in this world. I hope that when this is over, I will return to the stars and take that deep breath out I've been holding in for years.