Oh! How wondrous it is to look at the empty sky. Every fleeting thought passes right through my eyes and it’s hard not to let out a sudden smile. “I’ve smiled before right?” I ask myself. Tonight, as the stars shine bright, mainly because I have new glasses and can finally see how clear the sky is, the radiant bluish black tint of the night sky kisses the light reflecting off the moon. Oh! How could I have ever failed to recognize the beauty of these moments?
Stargazing is even more beautiful when there are fragments of clouds and not an entire sky is covered by it. Each star seems to outshine the other. It’s a light pageant for the stars. If you pay close attention, I believe the stars will converse about how gassy they are. These are probably what I like to refer them as the grown up stars. Their light is small and they seem to appear farther than the stars we normally love admiring. Their light is a bit dimmer because they are at the edge with gas problems. Being around the society of narcissistic Nebulae probably doesn’t help. But I believe the sky seems ever so blissful with each star, dim or bright. They’re almost like headlights just less irritating and less blinding.
As I lay in my bed, the entire night sky now resides in my eyes and I can place stars in my room. I can be surrounded by stars and be kissed by the moon’s borrowed light and wrap myself around the embrace of the stars that have always made me feel like myself. I admire how the stars stay awake to watch us sleep. I admire how the moon is so kind with her light. She argues with the Sun every day just so she can borrow his light and watch over the whole world. Moon has been my friend and listened to my stories and always shone her gleaming enamor at me. The moon, the stars, the fragments of clouds and the beautifully empty night sky is my mirror. I see who I am, what I desire and what I’ve lost.
For years I asked the stars to lend me a smile. Now, I look at the tinted sky and see the glorious auras of all the people I love and I glance momentarily at the love I fear I might find and the love I might lose. I admire the night. She has been my friend. She has been my secret keeper. She has been my innate library and the warm blanket that wrapped me tight and kissed me with each sedated breeze. The mornings are mean. They are troublesome and tense. I am never alone; I am never too far away from the ones I love, just as long as the night and the day share the same sky as the canvas to paint their stories.
Siris is an undergraduate student at St.Xavier’s College, Maitighar