Star-addicted

Virtual reality-
The stars above you,
Two inches from your face,
Turn left and they're so much closer-
You can see the crystals, the sharp edges-
Right, and they're distant lights again.
Is that how life is?
(This is where this gets pretentious.)
Look up close at the sharp angles and mistakes,
Or far away at the general joy
(General Joy, salute, mandatory reference made)
and sadness, regrets and nostalgia.
Who makes this choice, are we born with it?
Do we decide how to see the glass,
Half-full or half-empty, beer or wine?
(I don't know what I'm saying.)
Oh yes- the stars-
They're beautiful, are they not?
So pretty, so romantic,
Those burning balls of fire,
Consuming gas, imploding, exploding-
Whatever it is that stars do.
Whatever it is that lovers do.


~Sam 

Scary Sunderban Stars

I wonder why humans are so fascinated with scary experiences. With controlled scary experiences, especially: experiences like roller coasters and swimming with sharks and jumping off bridges with only a rope to keep you from dying. 

When I was 18, we went to the Sunderbans to see the tigers. We didn't end up seeing the tigers, but I experienced something pretty damn scary anyway: total and utter darkness. On a small boat, in pitch darkness, in a crocodile filled marsh, in winter. I am not exaggerating when I say that I was scared for my life; but more than that, I was horrified at the thought that my phone might fall into the dark water. 

Recurring nightmares of my phone falling in played before my eyes. I even imagined myself jumping in after it to save it and emerging victorious, but with a phone which would no longer work; alternatively, I imagined being unable to find it, interspersed with mental images of being eaten by crocodiles and dying a painful death- or worse, surviving, to get beaten up by my tearful mother.

When I wasn't thinking of my phone falling into the water possibly leading to death or hypothermia, I was staring at the stars. Man, they do not joke when they tell you that the stars without city lights are beautiful. There are so many of them, and it's a crazy, crazy experience leaning back (over a crocodile filled cold river which could swallow my phone, don't forget) and watching them crowd each other out of the sky, and just think (and fear death and hypothermia and phone-loss), or rather, not think, just look and have dazed conversations with your brother, while your parents worried about getting you back to dry land.  

I'm not sure what the point of this post is, except I feel like posting something other than favourites, and this is something I'd like to remember.

~Sam 

Terrace Nights

I step out onto the terrace
And I can feel the relief enter me
As tangible as the breeze touching me.
I look up,
The stars have put on a show tonight.
I look around,

The trees are still.
The release leaves me
As the dogs bark over the songs in my ears.
But even the howling, fighting mongrels
Cannot take away the serenity of this scene.
When did a dog's howl become serene?
I look up,
I swear I saw that star move,
Run over to its neighbour.
But no, it's right there.
I wonder what the stars talk about?
Do they look down at us and wonder at our lives?
Can we be that important?

~Sam

The post-work peace.

It's 3:30 am (or was, anyway, when I wrote this, except my stupid phone refused to publish the post). The stars are beautiful tonight. I just finished a bunch (or whatever it's called) of work, and I have three days until the next bunch of work begins.

I've decided I like having nailpolish on my toenails. 

I've also decided that I like long, long-due showers.

Goodnight stars.

~Sam