Sitting at my terrace, I can see two strings of yellow lights – one of them is real and sharp, and the other is its blurred reflection on the water. Blurred, hazy, undefined – like the insides of me.
I feel like a reflection abandoned by my real light; my light without which I have no business existing. Mechanically moving along with the rhythmic waves, but lacking any sense of the music of the water; my forehead creased, looking for an answer… How can I, being the ineffectual reflection myself, create a real reality?
My gaze slowly sweeps the frame, not in active search for the answer. The lights all around momentarily distract me. The white ones from innumerable windows, the red ones on top of tall buildings, a flickering white one… quite star like.
There are no stars though, and I can’t see the moon either.
I surf the overcast sky. It spells possibility.
If I broke through the cover of clouds, there’d be a clear sky somewhere, and if I went beyond, there’d still be something to find. This sky holds a promise of endless hope.
And still, with all the glory of the universe, the sky comes down to meet the water at every horizon…the highs always find a match with the lows.
Now I see it. I’m not a reflection of one of these yellow lights at all. I belong to some really bright star up there in the glorious sky. I haven’t been abandoned. I just can’t see my star tonight because the sky is overcast. I have been allowed to drift, to wander, to shimmer and shine, still all the while intrinsically belonging to my brilliant star.
Someday, when it beckons, I shall fly up and kiss it. For now, I’m enjoying listening to the music of the silence. :)
. . .