Short-Fiction
We Could Be Much Worse
by Gustave Deresse
It’s late, and no moon may be found upon the sky. I pace the brief length of my balcony, addressing what I can only label as ‘myself’. Steadily, I slide into a downward mental spiral harbouring no end in sight. Oh, I know there’s nothing wrong, but somewhere in my heart stands disagreement.
Until you looked into the night sky and realized how seldom you think of stars during the hours of daylight.
Yes, we forget about them.
Distracted, my sight pins on a lone spark shimmering in the distance above. I can’t imagine what I miss in a single moment, what I might see, given true abilities to detect. For physical beings, the wholeness of existence remains indescribable.
I’m overwhelmed by the firmament; the universe, as I knew it a moment ago, fades into silence.
Suddenly, an alternative perspective arises, a new lens through which I must now sense and understand my life and reality. In ordinary circumstances, this would be tremendous.
Just having realized the endless beauty, the grandeur, the vastness of the unknown encompassing us all — it’s cataclysmic! For what can be done without synchronicity?
