“Not all that glitters is star, not all those who wander are lost…”
He mumbled the first two lines of a variation of Tolkien’s poem in Lord of the Rings. Looking out of his observatory deck, the view was indeed breathtaking. He was drifting in space while the ring systems of Saturn slowly crept into the view. That was roughly over one billion kilometres away from Earth, and the wanderer was finally close to his home.
“…The old that is strong does not wither, deep core is not reached by the frost…”
The rings, a great feature of the gas giant, formed a glittering halo around its mother planet. Billions of tiny pebbles and ice cubes reflected the sunlight to his capsule, not unlike a flowing river that sheen with Sun’s grace. Sun, the yellow star that is special to humanity yet is totally ordinary in the universe, was fine now. He thought to himself. At least, it still remained unharmed, untouched by those hunters from which he escaped.
“…From the stardust a fire shall be woken, a light from the shadows shall spring…”
He remembered what Mrs. Amy had taught in that breezy afternoon: Stars are born from the gravitational pull of the space dust, a gathering force so strong that the space dust starts to fuse and radiate heat and light. Most of them burn through their fuel and go off in a spectacular fashion, spewing out stardust in every possible direction. The cycle repeats and a new star is born again. He still remembered how the sunlight reflected off his crush’s glasses, and how beautiful her eyes looked under the autumn sun.
He stopped before the last couplet. The space capsule tumbled and stumbled, and he caught glimpses of a terrifying view every time the observation deck faced the Sun. It glittered, or in a better term, became glitters in the black backdrop of space. The sphere of hot plasma has disintegrated into thousands of small balls, like a big bubble breaking down into small ones in bathtub.
At that moment, he knew he was too late.