Perhaps we ran into a cloud of cosmic dust that intercepted the Sun's rays.
Sixty brave men were dancing motes of cosmic dust before the shocked commander could sound the recall.
They might be actual monuments, defaced by cosmic dust, by collision with the myriad fragments of the Belt, by time.
Then he was floating in what felt like waves of cosmic dust, swirling many-colored before his eyes.
The cosmic dust was brighter out here, and the constellations looked a little flattened.
The clouds of cosmic dust swirled and foamed around the familiar jewels of his own sky.
The precise nature of this cosmic dust—whether it was gas, meteorites and gas, or other particles—is open to question.
The stars and their planets are enormous aggregations of cosmic dust, swept together and compressed by the action of gravitation.
The more important question is: How do astronomers conceive the condensation of this mixed mass of cosmic dust?
Now haven't I as much right to light on Earth as on any other bit of cosmic dust?
