They tell me I am not supposed to be here
They tell me I am made
to make, to produce, to create...
I can only do one thing and one thing only, and that is to please by giving.
I can never receive.
In Russia they tell me that I am not supposed to want that
That for people like me (and here they try to fill their eyes with sorrow and sympathy)
It is very hard to do those things
You know, to compute, to understand anything more complex than a recipe from a cookbook.
They tell me that those stars and supernovas I see in the sky are not for me.
They are too hard, too complicated
think of it - a giant ball full of gas?
They tell me, it will be tricky for me
To study stars and their physic
To be an astrophysicist.
The title itself is too long for me.
I should find a husband, settle down.
They tell me that is what I am meant to do.
They tell me that they know what I am meant to be.
the stars are for everybody.
Those kaleidoscopic explosions of dying giants of light and gas.
We are the children of stardust, and therefore the cosmos is there for us.
I breathe in the energy from billions of years ago;
I am the door for neutrinos and particles;
I am the child of Big Bang and compressing gas and a galaxy so small it could fit in your palm.
Iand you and he and she and it are all the children of this universe.
the gravitational force of my attraction to the sky equals your desire to keep me in the kitchen.
nobody of those who tell me they know who I am
has yet to mention the fundamental strong force of my mind that is ready to pull my soul out of
this body just to bring me closer to the stars
and everything that surrounds them.
Maybe I am a biological ticking clock, but my heart knows no measure of time.
My heart desires for stars and stars only;
it wants to explore universes and sail to places where black holes are the size of a cat.
My hands, if they were given the freedom of movement, would reach for the telescope and try to tell me what
Copernicus tried to tell his people long time ago.
My eyes will look for the bright spots, the drops of milk, on the rich silk fabric of the night.
My eyes will search for the life undiscovered and buried under the light years that are too large to give us hope.
My whole existence, I feel, is made up of pure desire to learn everything there is about the Observable Universe.
I want to sail ships of hope and have them bring back the treasures of dreams coming true.
I want for everyone to taste the sweet nectar of knowledge about the stars.
once everybody's lips will touch the golden cup of wine and bliss of learning,
I want them to taste on their tongue the words we have always needed to know, but somehow managed to forget:
The stars are for everybody.