Heaven, Colored Orange and Brown
Sometimes I see the stars, but often in this modern metropolis, the natural anomalies are confused by our own synthetic lights and sounds. Our cars and our factories emit a light cloud that blankets the air around us, reflecting and refracting the lights that keep us bundles in a cradle of artificial security. I find it trivial, though, to see that the lights that once guided us in our travels to far and distant lands is now a thrown out thought in the minds of modern humans. I like to compare modern architecture with the grand statues risen by the brain and brawn of our forefathers. Stonehenge, for example, was made out of treasured rocks, labored hundreds of miles to the middle of an indistinct field, aligned in such a way as to praise and honor the stars that both signaled new beginnings, and signified their greatest idols. The Pyramids have tunnels that are positioned to channel the energy of these ominous lights and give peace and prosperity to their revered leader in the unknown of the afterlife. Meccan pyramids had rooms dedicated to the solstices, giving praise to its magic power to spring life from the ground. We see these buildings erected merely for the purpose of praising these stars, we pass by them on family vacations, we write about them in menial travel guides, but what do we learn from them? Are the only people who give mind to this magical relationship between man and sky writers and poets? Why can’t the average man look into the sky and be enthralled in passion, mouth agape, cheeks pinned slightly upward, eyes glistening in the shimmering light show produced by the never ending universe that surrounds us. Why can’t we stop? For one moment, just stop. We humans always feel so alone. We cushion ourselves in the open arms of the willing, and often are scorched by the offering, our loneliness replaced by the guilt that those open arms impress. As mankind has become faster, stronger, more socially intelligent, we often look straight ahead, a two dimensional world being perceived as all one can handle. I wish tonight I could walk outside and count every star that my ancestors had, but today, and in this place, such a wish will be left unfulfilled. But I can still look up and see our brightest of celestial neighbors, the ones most praised by those who erected such fine statues to their praise. So tonight, and all nights, I will look up in awe, and I hope you will join me.
