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beyond the streetlight


The waxing half-moon is bright this night, in a clear cloudless sky as twilight settles into the deepest blue. The fireflies, awakened by the summer evening’s cool breeze, so-briefly share their light over the now-shadowed grass which stands tall, longing for the morrow’s dew.  Behind the streetlight, one can only imagine the starry heavens; clustered with the fruits of endless galaxies. Unfathomable brightness journeying incomprehensible distances for implausible eons, reduced to the faintest point of light and seen only by a favored few. And there I stand, alone, listening to the chronic hum of the nearby interstate that masks the cricket’s call and the whispered groan of gently swayed trees. If for just this hour I could see those collective suns that disrupt the void and stare into the depths of infinity. To drown myself in the entirety of endlessness for just this moment: reaching out to touch tranquility and finding serenity sought.  But this fucking street light!

I wrote a sequel:

The waning moon still glows brightly to the west on this crisp autumn night. The chill, a constant reminder of the coming bitter cold. The trees, now bare, can no longer muffle the distant horn of a far-off train as it winds along the banks of the restless rushing river.  The air is dry and my breath lingers in front of me, like a slow moving cloud as it disappears into the night. The suburban landscape is illuminated au clair de lune; shadows stand tall, contrasting the grey-scale view of dark.  To the east, the sky is clear; devoid of clouds or the mirrored solar light from our satellite prime. The draw of countless points of light, piercing the vacuum beyond our home, leaves me staring up.  To be embraced by the epic rays of celestial delight. To, all at once, feel both alone in an infinite universe yet prized by the creator, gifted with the universe’s wondrous bloom. But this fucking street light!


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