We have blotted out the stars, replaced them with a sea of glowing screens, drown them out in our cities of lamps and incandescent lights, barricaded ourselves from the sky with our shelter.

On a clear, crisp, autumn night, accidentally separated from materialism, I am startled by the glowings above me.

‘Oh.  It’s you.’  I whisper to the pinholes of light in the black, forever catching me off guard.  ‘I had almost forgotten.’

No matter how many times I notice them, they never cease to teach me wonder.  As the years go by, the noticing happens less frequently, crowded out by the synthetic lights illuminating man and his work.

Stars illuminate something else entirely.  To appreciate a star I must avert my gaze from myself.  I must look at something other than what I am doing and where I am going.  Stars remind me that I am small.  I am temporary.  I am not everything there is to see.

If I am too self-absorbed to see the stars, I have missed the beauty of being human.


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