(click below for audio)
A star streaks through the forgotten sky.
Brings excitement. For an instant. Then is gone.
I watch street lamps, porch lights, more stars, and I linger outside in the dark maybe a little too long.
My son will be standing outside one night in July, drunk from big glasses of wine, tired from working too much, a little lost because he’s not quite sure how to grab onto and place the gift he’s been given, and he’ll want to talk to me, but I’ll be gone. Burnt out. Faded away. Just flashes in his memory. And he’ll be on his own and doing whatever it takes to keep his family happy. Even if that means setting aside every dream and hope and grand idea he ever had. And though he’ll be happy—animally happy most days—the ache will grow.
Awareness becomes unbearable.
Everything you believed in falls apart. Just breaks into brittle little pieces that are easily ground to dust.
And the cycle starts over again.
A star streaks through the forgotten sky. A man remembers.
Days gone by.
That weightless beginning. Surrounded by warmth. Fluid. Love.
And above him at night the lights are amazing.