When the sea is the earth is the sky
All of the seas are a black void, do you see it? All of the heavens are bursting into flames. Do you see the ashes of the host forming into mirrors? Light is fragmentating all around us. Reflections are shaping. We see ourselves in distant surfaces. We cry for what breaks. We look down for answers. Our likenesses are luminous but with much limitations. They shine, they fade. We know not what they’ll become. They are too bright and too distant for our eyes to consume; far too brilliant for our minds to ingest in their entire splendor, but still we crave.
We eat what we can’t taste, hoping it will grace us with a flavor of what we might be, what could be if only we could reach. If only we could hold a sliver of that falling light, perhaps we would evade the drowning brought on by abandonment in waters too deep, too darkened for us to swim. One by one, luminous reflections strike the indigo world below, forcing us to engage in a cosmic introspection. Why did we form? Are we the same? Or are we entirely too different, too separate? What creates the separation? For what purpose have we come undone? We wonder at this spectacle from above.
We are but ashes of the few that make up the many. We know not why they left. We know they are changed. As are we. We are too wonderfully alike and too terribly different from what exists below. Too different to move on and warm the heavens. Too alike to stay and cool the seas. We can’t keep flight in these horizons. We drift until there is earth. Our temperatures expand only enough to touch one another; perhaps, that’s why some of us seek a paramour? We hope to find a mate that will ignite us the way the stars in the heavens would have. We are trying to fill that void.
Ironically, we are looking down on our lives. Looking down and away from ourselves. But who or what is looking up at us? Or have we been looking up all this time, just feeling the spiral from looking down and away for too long and too far? What are we all but stars taking on different shapes and angles, hoping to shade or light ourselves better to accommodate the same tortured longing, variants of light and dark, to seek that reconnection with the anatomy of the night sky, the distant universe, before it all began to desert and condemn us to the dying soil?
