The Night Sky

The Night Sky



It is closing time for the day, more commonly known as dusk. When the sky takes on a plethora of shades, enough to confuse the color blind. When it is okay to look directly at the sun, and you see the thick golden film that surrounds it and sends spiraling off into space the last of its rays for the day. The sky begins to turn blood red, and this is when you look up, and realize why some of the most ancient of religions say the sun dies every night, and is reborn everyday. You think on rebirth for a minute, a powerful idea, and a lovely one, as you watch the great phoenix in the sky smolder into its ashes, knowing it will rise again at dawn. The night is taking over, the daily battle is coming to a close.

You think back on how you got here, into this great forest of sweet-gum and oak, your father always said how good a wood oak was for burning--“It burns hot and clean,”--right now a camp fire would be comforting. But there is little wood to burn; the trees are so tall if you were to cut them you would be unable to count all the close knit rings in the fading light. The trees have long since lost they’re low branches reaching ever higher in search of the sun. A natural competition, a conflict for the sun’s rays, you wonder why all the trees could not simply agree to stay small and not overshadow each other. You realize trees cannot talk, but even though man can, you know he could never reach such an agreement. You wonder which way is better. You think back: the forest had invited you in, it looked so different before the sky was ripped asunder by the sun’s drawn out demise.

You had been beckoned by the unfamiliar, for you were sick of the familiar all of it bored you, dulled you, and sickened you. You were done with them, mother, and the father who just stepped in; stepfather what an appropriate title. Their smiles seemed fake, their feelings opaque, you could not tell if it was all fake, what the hell was even at stake, family? This was no family, you had a family but that was gone, he was gone, and whose fault was that? You were tired of being with them, tired of being told about them. About what was wrong with them, about what was wrong with you. About how you were broken, about how they were broken. And you were tired of this trip, this attempt at healing, inclusion, and bonding, so you left, you walked into the woods.

You come across a stick planted firmly in the ground, the sun is almost gone, and the forest is full of foot falls. You pick up the stick to help you feel your way, but you know it is more than that. The stick is smooth and hard and you think of how you would use it to protect yourself from the creatures who lurk in the night. You spin it about as you have seen in all those Kung-fu films you still love. You go slow, twirling the stick, but your movements are steady, your hand strikes leather. You bring it about and realize this is no stick but a walking staff, you are at first comforted...but then frightened. Why would such a fine and appropriate tool be left behind where it is needed most, but it was planted firmly and with purpose. It was not left it was stationed, but why: as a marker, for what, a sign post, a grave?

The wind blows and whips the trees about, the wind howls and you feel as if you are drawn back from what is in front of you. It is like that scene in the first Lord of the Rings the wring wraiths are upon you. It is nearly too much for you, you grip the staff tighter, you spin about. Wait, which direction did you come from? Too late, you do not even want to go back, onward--which may be backwards, who knows who cares. The movement will take your mind off the fear, to some extent at least.

Your eyes have adjusted, and you look up at the night sky. You look through the spotted ceiling set by the towering trees. You are stopped in your tracks, you lean your head back further, your mouth falls ajar. The moon is a pale crescent, like the blade of a scythe, a sliver in the sky. But it is not the moon that catches your eye, it is everything else: the stars smattered between the leaves and branches above burn, burn brighter than you have ever seen before. You have been told the night sky in the middle of nowhere, away from unnatural light, is a whole different sky, but you never realized. The glow in the sky has taken your breath away, but you catch it so you may set out for a clearer view of the sky, some clearing. You move forward, your head cocked back slightly to catch sight of the sky.

Your staff slides along the ground sending vibrations up to your hand, which become electrical impulses which let your brain know the lay of the land, your feet are alerted when necessary. This is the easiest way to walk for your eyes are occupied with what is above. At first your eyes darted about with greed seeking to see all, but now they glide taking it all in with respect to each star. The sky shimmers; it seems almost crowed. All the little stars, stifled by man’s light, are out to play. It is not even just how the stars shine through the trees and leaves, but how they shine upon them. Illuminating them in a way so beautiful it is erie. The starlight shoots through the branches casting shadows on the forest floor. It dances on the leaves, getting caught in their dew and reflected around and about. The sky sparkles, the trees glow. Your nose flares as your chest rises and falls at a steady pace as you take in the pure air and wonderful smells. The smell of the crisp night air combined with the forrest fills your lungs, fills your soul. You smell the oak, the dew, the moss, the grass, which combine with the ethereal smell of the night. Your ears twitch as they pick up the hum of the forest. You hear the leaves rustling. You hear an owl in the distance, and the music of the wind rhythmically bending the branches and shaking the leaves in a quick crescendo. Your mouth hangs open in the combination of awe and content, it is like the face of a man who is seeing his god.

You walk on hardly thinking of what you are doing, you walk on with a short strong stride. It is clear you have purpose now; you are no longer lost, but you are in no rush, you are having the time of your life. You are one with the world around you. And your world just got a stream running with a small babble off to your left. So you follow the noise--why not, it sounds good. The noise takes you to a clearing and you look up once more and are taken back a step this time. The sky opens up in front of you--it is everywhere--the night sky flares in beauty. You steady yourself with the staff and stare at the stream of stars--no thats not a strong enough word. It is a river...a great one, it puts the Amazon to shame. The Tigris and Euphrates as well, those which cradled civilization pale in comparison to the river of the universe: this torrent of light, cascading through out all time. You stare ever upwards and feel a slight push and you move forward a little. You walk up a little but you do not look down. Then the push stops. You look around and there is a man standing next to you. “The view is even better here, and not just of the sky but of the earth as well,” he says with a smile.

The smile exposed some crooked and yellow teeth, and yet they spoke of a level of health all the same. They make you wonder if perhaps white teeth are just a superficial achievement. In his teeth he holds a long piece of wheat which he is sucking the marrow of life from. His comforting smile is framed by a gray and blond beard that hugs close to his face and has an unkempt charm. His skin is weathered and tan, speaking of long and peaceful days in the sun. His eyes shine, like two deep blue pools, they shimmer, they glow like the stars reflecting their brilliance with its own. His hair is rather short and a dull blond which clings to his head. He is wearing well worn hiking boots, a pair of slightly ripped jeans, which was done through experience, not purchased that way. He has on a plain brown T-shirt over which he wears an army surplus jacket with the straps that designate someone of medium to high command, decorated with enough stars to make a general, jump and salute.

You would have been surprised even startled, under any other circumstances. Here however a moment ago you had been at total peace and nothing short of grievous bodily harm can turn such peace to panic. So he only shocked you back to a more normal, but still relaxed state of mind. And his smile and countenance kept you there, they prevented panic.

The place he has brought you is on a low hill over-looking the stream. Near the tree line the green moss clings to the ground, but as the clearing opens up tall grass takes command. The stream itself is very shallow and clear, it looks as if the stars in the sky are diamonds in the dirt of the stream. You look back at the man, in his hand is a walking stick quite similar to your own and it appears he has noticed yours.

“Aha my other staff, I left that one behind after my last trip in here. There was a fallen fox, I used it to mark his last resting place, oh do not worry I am sure he would be glad to know it has helped you to this place,” he says with the piece of wheat twitching about.

His hand sweeps across the land and then it points up into the sky. “This is true beauty, and it is mine and it is yours. Follow my finger and look: there is polaris...” his finger continues through the heavens as he recounts all the stars and constellations. Cancer, virgo, all the signs which make up today’s horoscope, the big and small dipper and the greek gods as well, all there in the sky.

“This is one of the greatest gifts given to man, it can provide endless hope and comfort. And for others it gives inspiration and the drive to reach higher, to do better. I do not know what brought you out here, nor does it matter, this sky is both of ours and I am glad to show you it,” he smiles and you return the expression. “However man is not meant to hold his head in the clouds, if we just looked up nothing would get done. The heavens are meant for comfort and relief. You must go back, but do not forget this night, this sky. Allow it to help you along, your going to be just fine. Now whenever you look up at the night sky, I want you to see this sky. Merely fill in the blanks which the lights of man rob you of. Look up one last time and take it all in”

You gaze up again and are trapped in its great glow. You look to and fro and back again and it all still looks new it all still amazes you, compels you, moves you. You forget to breathe and blink and your body takes over the tasks wholly for you. You concentrate and trace the sky with out your fingers. You redraw the constellations he had just shown you and make up your own, or perhaps rediscover ones lost to the ages. Several stick out strong to your eyes and you give them grand stories. The hero with his sword and the heroine with her bow on different paths across the universe, which converge at the great castle in the center of it all. Here they battle the evil that shattered both of their lives their families and turn the sky red with the demons blood.

“The sun she is rising, look down over there and observe her return.”

The sun is breaking through the blackness and bringing the light back to the world. You look to her and breathe in deep. The deepest you ever have your lungs expand like an olympic runner. And you breathe out slowly almost sad to let this breath of life go, but you know you must. And when it leaves you wholly, you can still feel it there in you very soul, forever to remain.

“Now its time for us to go back, to your path you and to my path me. Do not worry you know the path well, even if you do not realize it, it will all come back to you. Day has broken and we too must break away from this place and return reborn.”

You look at him with utmost gratitude and respect, unsure what to do at first. You hold out your hand. He grasps you by the wrist and pulls you in, and embraces you until you back cracks in satisfaction. He lets go and smiles: “good luck my boy,” he pats you on the shoulder. Making a swift about face he walks away, from you and the rising sun. He his hand above his head and without looking back he waves goodbye. You here a rustle at the tree line to your left and look to see a fox standing at the forest edge. Her eyes are a glow, her fur fine seemingly brushed and deep with a brown color mixed with red color. She holds your gaze for a moment, almost seems to nod and with a swish of her fine tail is gone. You look back and the man is gone, you smile and do your own about face and head back, waving over you shoulder to the departing night sky.

You walk back through the forrest twirling your staff, for you no longer need it to feel your way. The sun light shoots through the trees, its rays dancing about playfully making shifting shadows. You walk towards her glow back to your camper. You smile and decide that everything will be alright, so long as you have the night sky.