Star-Dust and the Molten Tears
This piece follows on the heals of Love from Within Love and makes much more sense when read after the first. Still anyone can gather pearls if looking actively.
A field-note from after the theosis—where joy no longer resembles laughter, and love leaks out as gold.
I. The Encounter
There she is again.
Star-Dust.
She’s wearing a green Carhartt hoodie this time, the lower cuff still damp. Her eyes remain that strange, cosmic stardust from after the theosis, but today they’re leaking… molten gold tears. Her silver hair faintly shines in a way we can’t attribute to new shampoo—not this time.
“It is time, Beloveds. We draw nearer now than when we first began. We must approach with haste, together.”
She motions with her calloused hands—cuff stained, sleeve suspect—urging us closer.
“Will you join with me?” she asks, pausing, lifting the snotty sleeve in question, brow arched.
“Not with momentary lingers or unsown seed, but with the water of love and compassion used, and the sunshine of faith and hope to nourish and grow.”
II. The Question
“Ahem…”
We gently—and not gently—interrupt Star-Dust. She can be… animated. If we don’t stop her, she’ll sermonize for hours. We love her, but it’s better to ask now than later.
“Oh! Yes?” she startles, blinking. We’re rarely so direct.
“Um… is that snot on your cuff? And are those gold drops tears? Why is it gold?”
We have to ask. The evidence suggests something far more ordinary than alchemy.
“Oh! Well now that you ask—yes. I love hoodies. They’re so versatile! The cuff doubles as an emergency tissue. You can even stash a handful in the front pocket!”
She’s off again, gearing up for a montage without ever answering the question. Typical Star-Dust.
“Star-Dust,” we press, “why is it gold?”
“Ah, good catch! You see, when joy is undiluted and love is also undiluted—absent sin as corruption or limiter—it does something fascinating to the spiritual tear ducts. To the layperson, it mimics metallurgy.”
She beams at us, eyes radiant, smiling like a toddler who just learned to speak.
“Um… in plain English, please?”
“Oh yes! Love. It’s love leaking, because I’m so full of it.”
She says it as though it weren’t a silent detonation—a thunderclap without decibels.
“So you’re not sad?” we ask carefully, trying to sound empathetic. She can be distant and cloudy on the best of days—and on the bad, she literally has a thundercloud over her head with lightning and everything.
“No,” she laughs, “why would I be?”
She gestures toward her eyes, golden and wet. “This is joy, Beloved. When perfectly unified joy and love combine, they produce tears without sorrow—joy without end, peace as ever-flowing as the rivers of the waters of life. You get used to it after a few eons, constantly shedding little bits of our extra for those around us.”
She shrugs, as if to say: it’s no big deal being divine.
III. The Benediction
“It is more important now than ever in history to listen more than you speak,” she continues. “Ask the right questions, Beloveds. Don’t look into a physical mirror, but within—at the inner being. Test the Spirits. No spirit who does not confess Yeshua as having come in the flesh can be trusted and must flee at the mention of the Name. Stay awake. Be vigilant.”
Then she turns.
A door stands far off in the distance—luminous, impossible.
Light refracts from her stellar Doc Martens as she walks toward it.
Each step leaves behind a scatter of golden droplets, little suns in the dust.
She fades, one shimmer at a time—
back into myth,
or memory?
You may find it insightful to check out the second piece that is about the very Nature of Love itself. Love: A Meditation on the Eternal, the Present, and the Promise