I am the Cosmos

Before I had a name, I burned in distant stars.

Now I gather beneath a single skin, carrying the dark between galaxies and the warmth of vanished suns.
My eyes are small openings through which the universe watches itself pass.
One day, this borrowed shape will loosen. What I called myself will travel on, in dust, in rain, in worlds without a name.
I am the cosmos, briefly dreaming that I am someone.