Somehow Existentialism. (15/06/17)

Have you ever looked up at the stars, and play connect-the-dots with constellations? Perhaps you add a splash of colour in the back of your mind. Filling in the face of a greek god with crayons or finger paint. Sculpting shape to his face. Adding texture to a lion’s mane with a feathery paint brush or the gentle swipe of the hand. Because the sky really is just a page in a grand colouring book. Perhaps the most boring and exhilarating colouring book in the universe.

Then suddenly, you find a star out of place. Oh, that’s not a star, but a satellite. And now, why must we pollute space as well as what’s below? I know for sure that the satellites always shine a bit brighter than the stars, stealing all the vibrancy of white light speckled on a black canvas.

It is not enough to have the abundance of Earth and all living thing on it; the only place in the universe known to support life.

They scream at the green people, who pry at pollution issues and the like. They put on a smile and straighten their ties, and they lift their palms to the sky and then they will chant the ignorant cliche:

“Bigger is better.”

So they create more space in nothing but space itself. The universe is our playground, because we can’t help but wonder what’s beyond the stars, the sun, and moon. What’s really at the core of existence is everything we’ve tried to avoid so we go out on expeditions trying to find an alternative answer. What is that one thing that makes up everything Make the earth from the dust and it’s elements. We call ourselves the creators, the life-givers but we are only the life takers. The soul drainers. Under their confident smiles of pure power is only flesh and bone; evidence that reveals the lie of the upper-class, the creators of death itself.

I’m not one to believe we make up our own fate, that we are the ones who kill ourselves, that we are the ones that submit to inhuman weakness, eventually giving our energy back to the dirt beneath our feet.

But perhaps I ought to stay open-minded, and perhaps I do believe we make up our fate. Perhaps He made that way.