Starlight. Better than sunlight, moonlight, candlelight, or any other kind of light.
A scientist would tell you the stars are balls of hydrogen and helium gas burning millions of light years away.
An astrologer would tell you their position determines certain aspects about the world and that they have traditional meanings.
A romantic would tell you they are beauty incarnate.
A poet would call them inspiration.
What are they to me?
They are everything beautiful, ethereal, untouchable and divine.
The stars represent dreams, aspirations and hopes that are unachievable, but always there.
Ever fancied someone you shouldn’t?
It hurts doesn’t it?
But it’s kind of a good hurt.
When I look at the stars, I feel that good hurt. It’s like watching someone you shouldn’t love. They are so exquisite, so alluring and magical.
Everlasting, always just above my head, but I can never touch them.
They twinkle because of the constant shifting of the atmosphere.
Their light takes billions of years to reach Earth. Many stars may have supernova-ed and gone millions, even billions, of years ago. But their light will remain until time catches up with their destruction. And by then, maybe a new star has formed.
They make me feel lonely and surrounded at the same time.
So insignificant, but so honored to be able to see them.
I like to think their twinkling reflects humanity, always changing, moving.
We have existed less than an instant in the scope of space and time, a meaningless fraction in the endless span of the universe.
In that blink of time, we have charged ahead, shedding our light and exploring the stars. We question everything, longing to know the secrets and mysteries, the enigma and irresistible pull that surrounds creation.
They make me want to know impossible beauty.
Sometimes when I look up at them I feel something like a physical pull, something yanking me upwards towards the night sky.