Stars

  From here, it all looks so peaceful...
  From here, you can only make out a few groups of people, cenetered around the self-made stars. From here, there is no personalization, there are only the followers and their leaders. From here, you can't see that these stars are dying...

  I know the death is there, though, I've seen it a countless number of times. I've watched while the stars, in their desperation to be the most brilliant of all, burn away all their reserves to find that they don't have enough to keep themselves burning inside. I've seen the followers that flock to the star's shining light, attracted by the power eminating from inside. And Always, I've watched as the star begins to drain the life out of it's followers to fuel it's own fire. In the end, when the fire begins to die, those around it are too drained to escape even the weakening pull of the star.
  The end is never as spectacular as a star's end should be. They are always unwilling to let go of the power, the attention, and instead of releasing the energy that is natural to a star's end, it becomes locked inside a shell. So, where there could have been a moment of unimaginably beautiful release - a release of power, which has the potential of refueling the followers with new life, and refound energy - there is, instead, a final moment in which the star pulls in anything remaining around it. Holding onto those last precious drops of the drug it craves, holding onto the last flickers of light, it pulls it all inside. The fuel runs out, and the star's remaining power wraps around itself to find it holds nothing.
  Beautiful Irony. The dead star's empty shells are black holes that suck in anything foolish enough to get close to it. A final wish, a final desperate cry, that makes them a mockery of themselves. They continue on, only to find that they are draining all of the beauty out of their own lives...