the night of the falling stars
i was struggling to keep up.
he glanced back at me. 'it's not far now.'
we weren't moving too fast, but voiceless lungs are not made for any kind of abuse. and mine were no exception. i touched his shoulder, trying to make him understand—
and we stopped. i leaned over to catch my breath, but he put his hand on my shoulder. i looked at him.
he pointed up, and an endless expanse of black velvet sky stretched out before us. here and there were winking points of light that dotted the night. water rippled at our feet, reflecting the light. it was magical, beautiful, and the air sighed around us and was still. it was a setting from a dream of space and time. and it seemed like there was no one in the world but us.
'wait,' he told me, 'and you will hear your voice.'
we stood there as time stretched on indeterminately—just two small people in an absolute stillness, waiting for the meeting of the heavens and the earth.
and a small pinprick of white and gold became unstuck from the sky and descended, dancing its way to plunge in the glassy lake and smolder gently. the water glimmered golden for a moment, and lit the night. and a silvery shimmer passed through the air to me, flooding my senses with song. it was a strange kind of wonderful i wished i could thank him for.
and as if it had been the signal they had all been waiting for, dozens more fell to join their companion, so many that the lake radiated a soft, luminous glow. and the air sang with their passing.
it was so beautiful. i wanted to cry.
he took my hand and we stretched out on the humming grass.
'this is your song,' he said.
and this, i thought, is love.