End of the Line: The stars of wonder
Nothing in life is stable or secure. One ventures out into the dark to watch the meteors rain across an evening sky. They streak in a most unpredictable fashion, mercurial, disappearing and re-emerging. They slide past the planetary axis. Their illuminations are intimate. There is a realization that the past can never rescue the present.
Watching the intermittent threads of light, one may be abjured to a frail existence. These falling stars in their mysterious showering, solicit the muses or catalyze dreams. We may not attribute our fates to these countless, heavenly fires, but in time, we will surely return to the minute dust from which we came.
What separates man from his fellow creatures is his intellect, his ability to think logically. It is the precise reason why we establish laws of order. Life exists as the product of endless failures and countless mutating engagements under the brow of the sun. Microscopic enablers created the universe of being and made the rhythm of existence complete, yet the lesser beings found themselves at the mercy of progress’ shifting pollutants. No Eden can exist as a utopia. All that is living is molded by the timeless rhythm of a cellular cosmos. It is the corruptive nature of the ego that has ravaged the garden within. It is the small life that instructs and is ultimately shunned as the planet warms.
One can come to an emotional crossroad when the light of intellect is diminished by ambiguous emotional stirrings of the heart. It may just be that the unexpected, brief illuminations from the heavens frame one’s faith and enable one to feel the miraculous and unexpected creative energy of unknowing. The sparks of the synapses flicker through the universe of the soul like falling stars. Love is spawned in the horizon of light. Benevolence is un-prophesiable, yet always valid. Light falls out of the darkness where no law or political advantage can alter its journey.
Blindness often falls upon those that believe they see the world most clearly. Mankind is easily seduced and enslaved by the concept of authority. Millions adhere to dogma and fantical religiosities, rejecting the subtlety of the sublime. In a sense, humanity has forgotten its humaneness. Natural laws in the end usurp authority. It was written in the skies long ago, before men. I stand with my faith as the meteor rain moves through the shrouds of darkness. The spectacle lessens, and I hold my head in my hands pained by the fortissimo off these bewilderments.
I stand up and slowly walk back to the house, open the door and turn away, leaving the lost signatures to the immense night.
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