a starry deal

(written a few months back)

Last Friday, I spent the night at a coastal resort owned by the family of the infamous Paris. I spent my night lingering in the beach area with some overpriced red wine and free peanuts in my hands. The sky was just so dark that the stars on it sparkled extra brightly. I thought I was in a dream, or in a movie. Things were too beautiful to be true.

Then I remembered the article I read the other day. Some super-duper nova (apparently one of the biggest stars in the universe) exploded with extreme intensity that no black hole formed. A king star died without leaving a trace. And so I looked at them, shining balls of hydrogen watching over our puny little planet, observing our puny lives. We die all right. But they do, too. Not so high and mighty now, huh, I thought.

We live in the mortal plane, all of us. The white sand beneath my feet, the pungent wine in my hand, me, and the giant stars above. Someday, at the right times, we’d all say our final goodbyes. It’s a scary thought, knowing that in the end no presently living star will be left to tell our story to the future creatures of distant galaxies. No one, except He who schemes all things. It sends me shivers, peeping through God’s vastness and seeing nothing concrete. But it’s also comforting. If the giant stars above us are all in God’s plan, then so are us. So are us.

“We are in this together,” I told the North Star above me. “So let’s make a deal. You shine your best, and I’ll live my best.” For a moment, I thought I saw the star blink.