I care not to catalogue the stars.
It does not bother me where Ursa Major is hiding, or where Orion seeks his prey. Why should it matter that a collection of dots, when viewed from precisely this angle, looked like a goat to some corpse now long turned to dust?
No, when I gaze into infinity, all I seek
And what I find is an experience greater than any God, an uncountable endlessness that surpasses the imagination of billions, a sensation so overwhelming it almost crushes me.
And as I think of all that could have been in the story of my mind, but was made impossible by the limits of reality, a single tear tells me of the futility that is me, and I turn inwards.
I remind myself of all the roadblocks, all the doubt and all the pain that did not break me, and tell myself I’m but a speck of dust.
That I am nothing, that I am unimportant.
And as the tear dries and forms a stain upon my cheek, I pick up the weapon with which I have forged and ended worlds, and write of my own insignificance.
For if I were to jump off this roof tonight, none would truly miss me in the morning. The world would not stop spinning, the sun would not explode. The universe would never even know.
I am not needed. I am free.
Free to pave my own path.
Free to forge my own mark, and burn it into the face of this Earth where and how I see fit.
Free to offer my passion to the people I love and use it to help them shape their own lives.
Free to worry about tomorrow, only when tomorrow becomes yesterday.
And there, I find my peace.
At least for tonight, but tomorrow, I can again sit among the stars.