XII. As Stars Make Constellations   If we are stars, that is not our essential Selves. When a star winks out, a constellation Scatters and, if it can, regroups. Say we shun Packs and herds, say each is an island, all Separate from the whole: so it may be, Yet it is not the stars but patterns that we Seek when we seek life. We linger, longing to Be loved and liked. Not merely loved, though We may covet being loved because it's blind, Because it won't weigh merit with the mind; Not merely liked for having our worth known— But seen as part, unique, of patterns made By mind and true; upon dark chaos thrown By shaping need, palimpsest on nothing laid.