This Sky At Night.

This Sky At Night.
Lee.

This sky at night is the kind why painters set their easels; a sky which photographers hunger to click, that composers write symphonies for, and one which dreamers use to wish-upon-a-star. It’s beneath such a sky that I write this…

I should’ve been an actor. It’s now clear that I’ve been using my life pretending to be not who I am; fully investing in a one-man show that nobody comes to see, but I’ve always known this nor expected any different: I’m not that vain. So, it’s with a twinkle in my eyes which matches this sky at night—which is my priest—that I confess. I wonder, I wonder, I wonder, what is happening upon each speck of colour, every sparkle; what life is living there, if anything at all? I truly believe there is, as I’m not that vain to think that we are the apex and only voyeurs in this universe, because how could such beautiful, glittering promise, not yield more than hopeful, fascination alone? There has to be more than ‘this,’ hasn’t there? Hasn’t there? 

This sky at night is a patient listener. A therapist free of charge without the caveat of pretending to care that wanting what’s best for you is why they are there. It’s there for one and all every night, every night, every night, and you too could and should wonder, asking yourself, ‘is this all there is?’ I promise that you’ll be heard and if you’re listening without straining, you’ll hear more than you could dream of…