What the Sky Says

painting by author

If you sit outside long enough

And stare at the sky,

you will see the stars.

You’ll see a moving star.

Nope, that’s not a star.

It’s a satellite.

Sky pollution.

Noise pollution.

Move pollution.

Moving.

Moving a lot.

All of us. Bustle.

We live this way.

When I go out

and hold the night sky

in my vision,

the stillness of the stars holds my gaze.

It makes me small and still.

When I see a satellite, my heart skips a beat.

Then saddens, a bit.

The fakeness pierces me. It is forgettable.

But addicting.

The eye follows. Movement.

I end up watching the satellite until it leaves.

Or I decide not to.

Being interrupted by the bugger

makes me appreciate the real stars, more.

I want to do nothing.

I want to shine and do nothing.