I’ve been writing a lot lately, or maybe I should say I’ve been writing more than I usually do. I recently joined a writing club which, for me, was kind of a huge step. Up until very recently I never let more than a few people, who I’ve known all my life, read my writing. That being said, being in a writing club, and having people that I haven’t known for very long read my writing, is kind of terrifying. Thankfully I have amazing friends who don’t laugh in my face and tell me I’m a horrible writer. So maybe I’m not a failure…yet. Now to the point. I’m going to show you what I showed the writing club last time we met, which was in December.
Look at the night sky. No, don’t look at the stars. I said look at the sky. That beautiful, dark, empty sky. I always wondered what was in that empty space. Is it even empty at all? I mean just look at it. It’s like a vast pool of ink that you could fall into, but how long would you fall? How deep does it go?
Did you ever talk to things when you were young? Well, I talked to a lot of things, like the clouds and the moon. I created a whole imaginary city in the clouds. A city that no one could ever see, floating above us where no one could know. I would talk to the wind too. She was one of my best friends. A friend I never saw, but she would sing with me and dance with me. We’d pick flowers or explore together. Sometimes we would just sit and watch the sunset. Children play silly imaginary games all the time, but it wasn’t a game for me. It was reality. When I was little it was just normal. Now I wonder, how much of the world do we really see? How much is real but we just can’t see it? What if all our fantasies aren’t as far off as we think they are?
I talked to the moon and I talked to the stars, but there were nights when the moon was gone, and clouds covered the stars. On those nights I talked to the sky. And just like the wind, the clouds, the stars and the moon… I knew someone was there. It did’t feel like a fantasy. It didn’t feel like an imaginary friend. There was something there beyond the clouds, beyond the stars and the moon. The sky didn’t feel empty. And that is why I say to look at the sky. That is why I ask: is it empty?
I’m sorry, I wonder sometimes if I question things too much. But that’s just another question I can’t answer. I never saw any harm in questions. If something is true than questioning it should only confirm it. Some people don’t seem to think that way though. Perhaps sometimes people just don’t want to know what is true and they are afraid that questions will make them think too much. But that’s what I love about questions, they make me think. And I have been thinking. Thinking and wondering and asking. Now it all comes down to this right here, the sky, the darkness, the empty space, and too many questions that I can’t answer. But I can’t stop asking, because I need to know.
I brought you here because I thought maybe you could help me. Maybe you could see it from a different perspective. I know I’ve been rambling on and on. I just don’t know how else to make you understand. I have so many questions, and I just want to know what this all is. What reality is? What emptiness is? Because when I speak into the night I don’t feel alone. When I look at the moon I see a face. When I look past the stars there isn’t just emptiness. What is it that fills the space? What moves the wind? What forms the clouds? How do the stars seem to see me? Who gives the moon a voice.
Perhaps… perhaps that is the real question. Who? Who fills the empty space in the sky? Who lives in the void? What creature is it that is hidden in the blackness where I cannot see, who rides in the dark?