Star Gazing at the Sea

Hello Readers,

I stared up at the stars two nights ago. I stared into the black swirling deep of the sky until I feared I might lose my mind in the vastness. I fell back down to Earth, and stared at the concrete.

To no avail, my eyes went back to the sky.

I stared at the stars and forgot to blink as they twinkled at me.

The night sky looks like someone spread a sheet over the world and poked holes in it to let the sun through.

I recognized a few constellations and tried in vain to count the stars like Abraham did so long ago.

Recently, someone asked me if I felt all the history of the sea as I stood by it, if I felt impacted by the ancients who walked its beaches long, long ago.

Yes, I feel the history, the weight of time. Yes.

But it’s also personal.

This wasn’t just the ancient’s beach. It’s mine. It wasn’t only their sky, it is mine as well. I have just as much claim to the stars as they did.

I have spilled my secrets and my songs and my soul to the sea. I have cried to the night sky and I have prayed under the moon’s fragile veil.

I have walked a pilgrimage in the sand. I have failed to count the stars.

I have found shapes in the moon and I have ridden the waves.

I have gazed up at the stars and been scared out of my wits.

For me, the sky, the sea, these vast things that I live so close to, are… almost people. Almost friends. Not impersonal giant objects.

They were not just the ancient’s. They’re mine.

~Ruby

 

 

 

 

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