The Music of a Night’s Sky, by James Wadman
Every so often I get to escape my city life and sit beneath a sky illuminated solely by the stars and the moon. It seems so fácil to see in city lights that the sky is just a backdrop, but our preoccupations of our short-lived, big city stories are hardly the truth, aren’t they? Nights like these, I don’t see the backdrop of city lies. I see an eternity; I see infinity. In each star, like snowflakes, I see a different tale in its own descent to destruction.
My thoughts tonight:
I used to wonder how different my life would be
if every night I watched the stars for five minutes,
just in pure observation,
to grasp one moment of a completed night sky,
to feel immersion,devoid of specificity
where only in my exposed human nature
the star dust of my being lies my emotion
from compassion to contempt
But this moment
There is but bliss.
In this story, this endless story, I see my purpose from way down here on earth. I suppose I just revealed too much of my newest novel, so the rest of what I write will be a secret until my own storyline unfolds…