From Me

Tonight, I took a walk. The moon was bright, Mars was red, and the streets felt different from the daytime.

The night sky was silent. A few stars peaking out. Dim lampposts lining the streets. Leaves pushed to the curb.

It sounded like Satie. It looked like a street full of fall trees, half bare and red, the other half evergreen.

I always feel a sense of awe looking at the stars. Not a stoned awe, but one that touches me in its massive silence. The stars are speaking, but they are not saying anything you can hear.

I've often wondered about the light from stars. How long it's traveled to reach us. How the light we are seeing is light from the past. It's like looking back in time. It's so far gone, and yet still so alive.

Starlight awakens something in me.

There's a poem on my desk from a man I loved.

standard of living
-Jack Collom

L ight
E merging
A nd
F eeding

I keep it close to me. It feels like the night sky. Silent knowingness. Light from outside that somehow makes us feel something inside ourselves. Light outside that can awaken light inside. Feeding something.

There were teenagers at the park, looking for the party, totally oblivious to the things above them. Children playing in a house, laughing, being young and absorbed. And there were the monolithic redwoods—preserved, silent, strong.

Somehow, they seem to know the secret of silence. Somehow, they drink the light of the stars.