I desperately needed the comfort
of older, simpler, better days,
where not everything was contorted
into a complicated web of life,
when not everyday was a constant reminder
of the tragedy that had become my life,
and knowing that I had become the worst
mangled version of myself.
They said looking into the night sky
was like looking back in time,
so I sat in the balcony at 3 am
pathetically joining stars left and right
to put together those old memories
with missing pieces and faded colour
like twisted constellations in space,
trying to piece back my old soul,
buried somewhere under all that ink-
or so I hoped for a long while-
but there was nothing there.
Five, maybe six white stars dotted it-
More than one looked like a plane-
the dark blue was completely gone.
It went from streetlight orange near the horizon,
blending into a smoky, polluted grey up above.
I looked long and hard for something-
I was hoping for an epiphany of sorts,
a eureka moment of clarity and peace-
but not even a sliver of warmth came.
There was just the empty universe,
spreading its arms and engulfing me,
oblivious to my minuscule problems,
mocking my inconsequentiality,
rolling its eyes at my wasted tears,
chastising me for being bothered at all.
It's sheer vastness amazed me-
I couldn't remember the last time I had noticed how small we all are-
There was nothing in that giant void
that surrounded us which was
corrupted by us like we did our earth.
It was empty, peaceful, quiet.
Then the moment came-
The eureka moment of peace and calm.
The problems didn't go away,
It didn't suddenly dawn on me to solve them this way or that way.
They were put into perspective
by the inky mass-that was no longer
dauntingly capturing me-
just indifferently protecting.