The Terror That Dazzles [star-gazing]

10:42 PM

When the lights are left behind and we are lost in the night expanse, a terrible whisper steals into our hearts.

We are small. 
We stare to the side of the prick-lights, elusive as they are. They can only be seen where we aren't looking. 
The city sleeps and we wonder if we are the only ones who haven't forgotten the universe.
Suddenly, our world shifts. We are no longer laying on our backs gazing through a pine vignette, but pinned to the side of a planet looking out at a glittering loneliness. Looking down, the only things between us and an endless fall are the silhouettes of our shoes and the fringe of a dark earth's horizon. The perturbing shift continues; we find ourselves plastered like flies to a terra ceiling, staring down a vast abyss. 
But it's the sort of terror that dazzles. Tears glisten, refracting the starlight off of breeze-kissed cheeks. 

A racing comet steals a gasp from our throats. It is a busy night for the universe; stars dying, being born, so regardless of us. And what, we ponder, lies beyond the utter reaches? Where the stars peter out, the space-time frays and the light dies faint, what then? What lurks in the blindsides of reality, what peers in, unfettered by dimension? A shiver down the spine says it's time to hide from the gaze of the sky, so we scramble for our screens and ceilings. We block away what makes us small and surround ourselves with smaller things, to assure our reign as little kings. Unbeknownst to our aching minds is the fact that the Presence beyond the Deep could be near us even as we sleep. Could the space suspended between the fibers of our finite being house an infinite Being unseen? Could a spaceless One reach through the uncharted dark and leave a trace upon our aching hearts? 

We wonder.

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