We are born of the stars. From the cataclysmic beginning of the universe came the first cells, comprised of stardust and dark matter and happenstance. By means of adaptation and natural selection, humans were formed. Mere collections of cells we are, stumbling through life as one would stumble through a cave as black as pitch: blindly, with groping hands outstretched in the darkness, clinging to some feeble hope of finding direction. Deep in the marrow of our bones, we long to rejoin the macrocosm. We long to return to our primordial state. When we die, we are born again of the stars.