Thursday, 27 March 2008
I'm walking across the vast blanket of darkness they call the sky. How I'm walking upon nothing but thin air, I don't know, but I'm doing it. Maybe this is a dream, I think to myself, but I know it's not. Somewhere deep in my bones, deeper still - as deep as my soul, I know this is real. I'm walking upon nothing solid or visible, but I'm not afraid of falling. I admire the sparkling, twinkling lights dancing around me. The ones neartest to me burn so brightly I can't look at them head on. Not even squinting would help, they burn so brightly I must close my eyes and view their beauty from behind closed lids. Yet when I look around me I can see stars farther out, twinkling merrily in the sky, they seem just out of reach. Where as normally, from a point down on the ground, they seem millions and millions of miles away, but now they seem so much closer than they've ever been. So close I could almost reach out and touch them, pluck them from this vast, sparkling night-blanket that covers the world, and drop them on my tongue like a grain of sugar. I imagine they would be just as sweet, but the truth is, they're miles away from me. Glittering like jewels, taunting like the toys from a department store window I wanted as a child. They're so far away, and yet I feel as if they're so very near. I stand here, surrounded by blackness and twinkling stars, and then one begins to grow. It's light is expanding in ripples and waves, like the ocean, but this is a tiny ocean in infinite black, growing, pulsing, expanding almost violently. As I watch the star enlarge, I know what's going to happen next. It expands, yet still appears as nothing more than a tiny speck to me, then light bursts forth in flames, engulfing the blackness entirely for a moment, before flashing out as quickly as a lightening strike. When I open my eyes again, stinging from the explosion, the area where the star was is completely black. There's not even a hint of it's prior existance, not even the trace of a halo left in it's place like a tiny white dot that pops on the television screen when it's several years too old. There's aboslutely nothing left of that star. It has imploded and exploded upon itself, and vanished from this world forevermore. I know, just as I knew that this wasn't a dream, that that star will never return to light the sky where it once did. And there will be no star that takes it's place. That star burned for a while, but it has now burned out completely. Unlike the flames of a fire that can be rekindled, this star is finished. Yet I also know, in this infinite place [and in infinite wisedom] that the light of that star has gone beyond me, and shines for those tiny mortals upon earth. All though they do not know it, they're seeing the light of a star that is already gone, and one day that light will vanish from their eyes too, and they will think nothing of it, but it will have affected their life if only for a moment, and that impression shall live on forever.
Dead End Poet