As a kid I grew up on the banks of a charming river. It literally runs through my parents back yard (and figuratively through me). The mere thought of it teleports me to hot summer days and long nights watching fly fishermen ~ my dad and grandfather among them ~ the gurgling and slapping of water as it moves over rocks and along the shore ~ men casting their lines in shadows of pink and crimson until darkness overtook us all.
When everyone had made their way back to the house then I would slip out to watch the the stars. The dew clinging to my legs and arms, finally cooling me against the heat of the day. I was just as pleased to be there on my own as I was to have my friends join me. Staring. Mesmerized by a million diamonds. Thinking that this web of existence must have no beginning and no end.
If you really take the time to look at the stars, the sky becomes a sea of light, pinhole by pinhole. At first it is mostly planets and satellites that shine the brightest. But soon, as your eyes adjust, it's a symphony of music that binds the past and the future. Funny how we think that the night obscures the day but really the day obscures the universe.
It is possible that these words I'm putting out into this night were formed then. Sometimes the light takes a while to reach us ~ light years in fact. But it is on its way. Words help me solidify these truths. Brings my heart back in line when it wanders on dark winter nights.