I have never had a home. From your perspective, I live in the sky. From mine, however, I don’t just see “the world.” I see the worlds. I see all the stars; I see the sun. Everything was perfectly fine, though. I was happy up in “the sky,” and, honestly, had no complants. I would focus on Earth and spin around her, perfectly set and content in where fates had planted my soul. I was in total calmness until I saw something headed toward me-fast. What could it be? It came straight from Earth. THe roughness of it pulled tight around me-I thought I would suffocate. I realized what it was-a rope. A tan-ish colored rope that would pull me down closer to Earth. Another pull. The sun began crying for me-perhaps she would miss my company? Then, I turned to dust. I floated around the universe, confused—pieces of me EVERYWHERE.What was I to do now? Waste away? Float into some other galaxy? Was that even possible? How would Earth survive without a shining hope for a brillant tomorrow?