Observations from below |
I was watching the sky as I walked, marvelling at the sun. A couple of birds caught my eye– some greedy little seagulls– flying round and around each other. In perfect circles they explored the limitless sky and I thought of us. They never met, not once, but they flew around each other in a strange sort of dance. I could almost hear their laughter as I watched from below, and I thought of us. I admired the night sky as I walked home. I watched the stars reunite, and saw them twinkle and greet old friends. Flashing red and green in my eyes. I thought of us again. The way I imagine your eyes to sparkle after you tell a bad joke. I thought of how very much I'd like to admire the stars in your endless eyes. But the seagulls split apart, they broke the circle at one point. One of them knew where he was going, and glided into the horizon. The other went the opposite way at first, but turned around after a couple seconds and flew after it. They disappeared behind a house and a tree and I am afraid. The stars sparkle in the night but they are just gas. They don't last long. There's always thousands of stars, I imagine, travelling the sky each night, looking for familiar faces, until they too burn out. This frightens me too. But I'm not a star, and you're not a seagull. This is our blessing. |