The Morning Juice

Waking up in the middle of the night lets out a shard split a thousand times between here and the land of the dreamers. Out of the crystalline chips forms a galaxy for a brief time of that particular morning. One by one the specks of dust fall and drift off. Rotating without gravity left the core piece too tender to journey out with its brothers and sisters. The building block of the dreamer's day toughens up eventually too heavy-hearted bulks up in the heat it radiates.