The stars have led us astray. Their brilliance led us into a thousand new worlds, under a thousand different skies. But our people were born under a single star. Our star. The Sun. Under its luminous warmth and gentle rays did we sweep the surface of the Mother-Planet, Earth.
We grew and adapted to that beautiful world. It was the prism that brought us illumination to our sight. Our vision, our myths, our culture were all birthed from it. And we took it to the stars as we left.
The landlubbers were outcasts since nearly the beginning. All were dazzled by the shining aurorae of the firmament. We thought we could sustain ourselves by alienating our history. Our roots to be uprooted and planted elsewhere. But the attempts ended in failure.
The greatest minds were hounded by the dilemma of our kind dying slowly as we ventured farther and farther away from our cosmic-center. It made itself a problem with no clear cause or solution. Humans just appeared to wither and grow feeble, unknown and vacant as the distance travelled widened.
Indeed, our species were homesick. Our being rejected the advancements of our civilization and were regressing into nothingness. A procedure to halt this decay or prevent this ailment was never discovered.
The eccentric dream of each and every one of us now is to be laid to rest back home, on Earth. An exodus of all spacefarers, reaching home. Perhaps I will never get to see the origin-orbit of our race. But I believe, down the line, some of my descendants inevitably will.
These alien suns provide no solace to the human self. Our existence, without awareness, was pivoted to Earth. The Prime Planet was more than just a system to leap out of. It was our hearth. The bond between life and cosmos.
I can picture the blue sky, a sky I never witnessed. It must be so beautiful.