Sometimes I like going to the roof of our house and just looking up at the night sky. I look up at the moon and the stars and I block out everything else. I block out the sound of vehicles, I block out the sound of my family, I block it all out. I like thinking that I’m the last one living and there’s nothing else on this planet. I see the moon, the stars, I feel the breeze, but that’s all. I don’t feel pressure, or pain, or hurry. It’s just me and the never ending story of time itself. Most would think that hearing the sound again would mean the planet’s coming back to life. But every time I hear the sounds of the vehicles and the sounds of people, I feel as if the planet is dying all over again. It’s like a cycle. Live, use, die, repeat. I bet if people looked up at the sky more often and accepted that there’s so much more out there than this, they’d love a lot differently. Nature’s beautiful, it’s our home, and people forget that so easily.
theblackorwhitelife 