Today was the day I saw the stars again.
My city is urban dumpster, and every evening dull lights discover a way to reflect off the asphalt. A flashlight could illuminate maybe half a block if it was bright enough. It's a very rare occasion to tilt my head to the indigo dusk and feel the warm, luminous balls of plasma from light years away.
The universe is a phenomenon that no man can fathom. How massive it has become, and it continues to grow exponentially. What does that make us? Our galaxy is only a speck of light that glows dimly like a streetlight. That makes our size, a human being, atomic in comparison. Our humanity does not account for even a small fraction of this divine dimension.
And yet, witnessing the natural beauty of our home gives me comfort. I yearn for the day that I can lay on a point overlooking a metropolis, and stare openly at the constellations, and let them inspire me.
The night energizes my imagination, enlightens my spirit. The moon’s white light shines on my spirit, and I can rest my fingers on my keyboard and press letters onto a document. The solitude at my desk is a breath of fresh air to me, where my mind is clear and I relaxed on a stiff chair.
What is it about the night that entices me? Maybe it’s the mystery of the universe that fascinates me. Our minds cannot comprehend infinity, that we can never reach the end of an ever-expanding universe. Maybe I thrive in darkness and silence, a child of Nyx.
Or maybe, I wish to delve into the unknowns of this dimension.