I’m looking out now, into the darkness as I often do when I’m searching for something- anything, really. I’m looking out, and instead of looking up to find light, I’m looking down.
There is a city below – I say city, but really that’s just interpretation, because from this height all I can see is a swirl of lights, the multitude of pinpoints barely distinguishable as separate sources of illumination.
And now, the plane dips lower, and I can look up as well, to the more distinct pinpoints above, in equal multitudes. Compared to their counterparts below, these lights seem years apart, and I know that scientifically, they are. Light-years. But I also know that beyond them, in the dark, are more stars, and beyond those, more, and that if we were able to see far enough, all those stars would appear to be so close together that they too would be barely distinguishable as separate sources of light.
Those are cities below, even though they may look more like constellations, more like galaxies from here. And maybe, up above, those are cities too.
-muse
2 comments:
It's been a while since your last post Erika. I like this one, although I think that assigning the name of 'cities' to possible congregations of life up above as limiting. That in itself suggests a human understanding and organization of life. I think it would be more beautiful if there weren't cities up there, but a congregation of life that we do not have a name for. Just my muse for you :)
You're right, it's been too long.
I agree with you, to a certain extent, that the term "city" is a narrow one for all that is up there. But isn't that one term also narrow for the great diversity of metropolises here on earth? I guess for my self at least, it helps to narrow things sometimes. The sky is too big for me to understand. In fact, so is a city. So I try to reduce a universe to a city, and a city to a bus stop, or a construction site, or whatever else I can clearly see.
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