The night of him looking at the stars was the night that everything changed.
That
night as the planets danced overhead, a thought grabbed him and shot
right up his nose and into his brain, almost taking his breath away.
Here he was abandoned in Space, a traveller and whatever the dimensions of this universe there could only be so many travellers.
Whatever
brought him or sent him to this place - that whatever he was going
through was unique – perhaps what he was experiencing really meant
something. There was a reason for his being
If that was true, then
everyone else he knew or met or saw was travelling too – all of them
wound up by a key and sent on a path with little decision on their part
of what they should take.
If they had been moulded by a god: the
woman in the bakery, or the postman, or the kid who always cried, then
they had an angel at their birth – but even if their heart, their
existence or their imagination was an accident of the universe – they
were still unique, still special, still a traveller.
So when
he jumped to conclusions or jumped to attention or jumped out of the
way, he told himself to remember – no one asked to be a traveller.
Be kind.
Be kind.
bobby stevenson 2012 "we are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars..."
No comments:
Post a Comment