Ian Lafontaine Starry Night

[Starry Night]

Ian Lafontaine

In the city, the stars are few, and the sky is black and barren. The light from down below has conquered the sky, and the defeated stars above have scurried away. The few lonesome pin holes left behind sit in the air like twinkling diamonds amidst the void, weeping for their companions. I suppose stars aren’t too fond of the city. So I followed their trail, and now I’ve surrendered to the sea. Now in the land of distant forest green hills that touch the sky, and the gentle rocking expanse of ocean water before me, I stand. The icy midnight sand freezes my feet as I breathe in the frosty air of night. And up, I gaze into the salty beachfront skies. A million drops of starlight, splattered across the black canvas of night, throngs the air. Swirling in a heavenly haze, their glowing smile beams down upon me. The call of the moonbird rings throughout the night like an ancient church bell, humbling the land into silence, as it soars across the galaxy, its wings stirring up streaks in the milky skies. The waning moon rides its chariot across the zodiacs, chasing the sun and dragging dawn by its feet from the east, the sea below painted with the Renoir of the milky way. The universe is a humble artist, and while looking upon its work, I feel mesmerized and small. But I know that I have a gift which not a single star in the whole night sky has; to see this world we live in, to look upon its beauty.