I used to marvel at the way stars passed. Then galaxies began to fade into the distance. The universe, vast as it is, can still become tedium when I have to watch it pass alone.

I keep moving. I try to keep my promise

There are moments of brilliance of course. Not all wonder has been lost. Stars burst and are reborn. Nebulae swirl. Color and light. Void. Dust, debris, and emptiness.

Sometimes the darkness seems endless. Distant pinpricks of light offer little comfort, no matter what worlds may orbit around them. Still I move forward – until I reach new lands. Ground beneath my feet, air to breathe, a sky. A place where I can plant the seeds and try to keep my promise.

For all that I have seen, a sky can still be a vast and wondrous thing. In such moments of solidity, I can find myself. I can even begin to find meaning. I forget which stars I have visited, which galaxies I have abandoned. I see only a sea of new constellations that yet have no names. As life takes root, I write our story in the stars. I let myself remember.

I let myself hope.

* * *

Story by Gregory M. Fox

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