There is a deep hole in our chests and it goes, and it goes. Deeper and darker until not even the stars can find us.
Strings forlorn and long forgotten stir without end in this darkness, their whispers and murmurs reaching upwardly and otherworldly until they drift from that hole, channeled through us.
Like the cosmic orphan moons, submerged and otherwise...we too are astral orphans...destined to inhabit and orbit these plains in between the silence of the heights and the billowing depths of the void.
You're going to carry mountains on your back...this is the price we must pay for this existence.