When you gaze up into the night sky
What do you see?
Do you see a deep sky, blossoming with moonlit clouds?
Do you see a heavenly embrace of solitude?
Or do you see the dark, empty abyss?
The deep sea of blackness that floats around the earth?
Do you feel lost in space?
Or do you feel comforted that we – the collective we – have conscience and can contemplate the complexities and possibilities of the night sky? The otherworldly thoughts of universe and place and being. The concepts of multi-verses, alternate realities, extraterrestrials, starships, planets adrift – like us – which may or may not contain life forms more – or less – advanced than our own?
Or do you find it overwhelming that due to our curious nature we beg to ask the questions which will never ever be answered?
What is waiting at the end of the universe?
The same thing that’s waiting at the end of life – darkness.
Or do you see the stars?
The pin holes in the curtain that shrouds us – the collective us – mankind.
Do you feel comfort to look into them?
Do you see them as shining stars of bright hope?
Do you see the North Star as a beacon of trust that will lead you to the shores of your future?
Or do you see them as infinitely impossible lands of wonder you’ll never set foot on?
Are they beautiful to you?
Are they frightening to you?
Do you see them as uplifting?
Do they give you a sense of wonder?
A sense of dread?
Do they give you a taste of that thing we – the collective we – homoerections call faith?
Do they make you see the beauty and bounty of what god has given us?
Or do they send shreds of doubt through you? Bathe you in the clear and disturbing – or reassuring – truth that we stand on a rock. A rock of water and sand and dirt and grime. A rock of metal and glass and concrete. A rock of past, present and future malfunction. A rock of life forms ranging from bi-pedal animals to organisms and germs – all encoded with the genetic imperative to procreate and eradicate – And that this rock is just one of millions – maybe trillions – of other rocks, floating – or falling – though a sea of uncertainty. And that should there be a god, somewhere, who chose fit to create this, that and us – Lets assume the single celled variants which evolved to became us – the collective us – superior beings in no ones eyes but our own – this god must have more important things on its mind than us, let alone you.
Does lifting your head skyward give you a sense of purpose?
Or a sense of peril?
Do you feel alone?
Do you feel part of us – the collective us – people in general?
We are all aliens – because we – the collective, selfish we – alienate each other.
Do you think there is more to it all?
Or do you just think the stars sparkle real pretty like?