Fixing holes in the sky

Fixing holes in the sky

Throughout the night fireworks raining into the sky. With whistles and shrieks, hissing and roaring and bursting apart. Bursting into coloured flames and stars that fall into our world. Into our world and into our life. They burn brightly for a while, all the colours of the rainbow and more. Fall brightly for a while. Finally finding themselves falling in gravities field. Dropping down and down and down. They land here in our lives. Here, there and everywhere, great smouldering lumps, scorching the earth near and far.

Picking our way through the charred litter, charred hubris and charred debris of deleterous. Whole civilisations, planetary systems and galaxies lie fallen at our feet. Smouldering lumps and charred stumps. Moving through it, through columns of smoke and clouds of ash. But amongst it all we begin to see the glitter of gemstones and rare elements from the fartherest reaches of time. Mixing and mingling here with our world.

The stars all fallen, knocked out from the sky. From empty space the new day arrives. Creeping over the horizon, cool and blue to begin. It warms all and settles in. Casts its light on all things. Casts it light that we may see them clearly. Casts its light that we may see them true. Casts its light that we may see all things for what they are.

The stars all gone, fallen from the sky. All landed here in my garden. Bent and broken, dented and damaged. Here they be, there they lie. The roses crushed and crinkled and cracked, the cherry tree its branches snapped. The hydraengas leaves all gone yellow and fallen off. So sad it all is, so they be. But with a little judicious pruning, weeding and feeding all will be right again.

But the oh stars ! A cause for some concern they are. They smoulder and moulder, their lights they flicker and blink. Barely a hint of their previous twinkle. Before our very eyes, fading away.

Around them I will plant a garden. To help ease them into life in this place. Pinks and purples, violet, mauve and blue. Impatiens, lavender and marjoram all true. Together they will ease the anguished heart. Lemon for some zing, fennel for freshness. May they get up and jump and dance and sing. Chickweed, parsley and cress all fresh. Spread hither and thither and growing all around. Last of all buttercups, daisies and dandelions, all running wild. Spread through the lawn, their flowers to remind them of their place in the sky.

Over the years I will water them with my tears. Falling through the night and the day. I will wring them from my heart – from every minute of this life. Seeing life as it is on this earth, could it be any other way. Clearing the path, clearing the way. The stars too share their tears. Their tears and fears and sorrows and cares. They might deluge the world over, flood all and float away. Float away and off into the sky from where they came.

Until such a day do the worlds people shoot their fireworks into the sky. In an instant appearing, in an instant disappearing. As we see the fireworks, so the stars see we. Gone in a moment. Until then a moment to live, a moment to act. But here fallen in our garden lie the stars. For you and me and us and we, our lifes job to burn in their light and to see them back to their place in the sky. To see them right. To hold the place until they might shine again. Shine their light that it might alight on this world once more.

Even as we take our position and wait. Holding forth as the great tide of time washes over us. Washes us over, pink and blue. If it pushes us we move, if not we stay as we are. To choose our own way. Times great tide, even as it razes all that it touches, know that in it lies the great purpose. The purpose of space and the sky. Of the rocks and clouds and the sea resting in its bed. Of the people and animals all coming and going, and life in the background, unmoved and deeply touched by it all. Touching deeply it all.

The banging and popping goes on all through the night. Who will get burnt by the hand of fools folly. Like this even in peace, what so of war. For some, only the unimaginable will do. Those who don't partake can only look on in horror. Those looking on feeling it more than those in amidst it. As for me, it is time to find those old stars, half buried in my garden.

Dig them out and set them free. To strike up their old fires, set their old twinkle into the sky. Even as the clouds of darkness day gather up high, others gather who will set things right. Cut right through with a wink of the eye. Their breath slow and deep, soft until becoming invisible. They wear the colours of the earth and the heart. Where they have been there follows a flowering of peace.

By their day the sun shines, and if it doesn't then all things shall shine by their own light. The green leaves greener, the yellow leaves yellower. The fragrances sweeter, the heart softer, and all things around it become softer too. Soft the feelings of all things for all things. That all may see the one thing and ride effortlessly on its breath. Soft are the tears that wash away the fears. Soft the light from the stars, shining from their right and proper place in the sky.

Never gone for an instant were they from there. Never weren't there, so too nothing not here. Hidden only by the dimness of the eyes light. Set it free, set it right. Sharpen the eye to slice right through. Unburdened the heart, the life it will see.