I feel like stars are gaseous balls that may have died out millions of years ago.
The ones that are left miss the ones that are gone.

So, they stretch themselves across the sky,
One by one, to find each other.
Billions of miles away.

They whisper to passing comets,
Sending messages through space and time and then
They wait for thousands of light years for a response.

Sweet; unless it goes unanswered.