Eighty Eight Constellations : Love and War in Our Stars

 

To the rest of the world, so much of our skies looked the same. Little did they know, your heavens were full of quiet stars and whispering luminous bodies, while flaming meteors darted quickly back and forth across my own empyrean, roaring and shining out loud. Light-years flew by and I recalled the many shared mild, tender moments. Our separate creations are bound together by the ambiance of muted whispers and gentle stares, the smell of sweet kisses and fond caresses. An atmosphere of harmless bickers and soft smiles that, as we turned, were no longer. Slowly, suddenly, the love amongst our stars was reduced to reticent grumbles and piercing glares. We both burned from hot tongues and red fiery palms, legs once wrapped around your waist turned to hands that gripped your neck with the imprint of my thumbs deeply impressed in your throat.

Perhaps it was the way I held you.

The more we became, the more gravity pulled us under until I could no longer contain you and you, me. In our contention, unnoticed went the dark matter that swirled around in the black holes beneath our feet. That was us. Always spiraling downward and descending into shadows we could not name or illume. We were the creators of this place where we were pulled apart from each other and collapsed in on ourselves.

I dont think this is going to work, you whisper.

That night rain fell from the rings of the planet that looked most like you. Glass hailed down from the others.

I wanted you a part of my world, but you were your own galaxy.

A galaxy I held by the neck and softly strangled while all the stars dimmed and planets ceased to spin. The blood of eighty-eight constellations stained the cuticle of each of my fingers, but not even your entire universe was enough.

You admired my shine and I believed you owed your entire existence to my sun, but we know this is the way universes perish. A sun burning, engulfing everything unto which it gives life. The skin on your arms that once held lightning in their veins became icy, the shine in your eyes grew dull and only in a dream did I believe you would ever love me again. Still, I tried to hold you, cold and frozen over. You were gone long before you ever left.

A hushed whisper escaped through my chattering teeth, Is this the end? 

I could smell the coming of snow as the night approached and sat until I watched the first flake float into a crater.

The moon bled at dawn.

We were the birth and death of a million stars.

Here we were, violently crashing into each other experiencing some inter-universe collision neither of us had felt before. Our love turned cataclysmic. How had we become this intergalactic war?

In the midst of the bloodshed in shadows of luminaries and posterior to our suns, we discovered there was nothing finite about this death. Alone, we drifted in lost starscapes and learned the true nature of our cosmos. I was too much a part of our universe to stand outside of its edges and understand how, why and what it was before. The dark proved a better lover than the light. Our demise was an illusion. In the blackness, we gestate and discern what it means to bend new light. The space around us expanded and we were transformed. We exist as other stars now. Stars in a multiverse massive enough to hold the intensity of our dust.

In this war lied redemption.

Now I know that macrocosm is sometimes born from catastrophe and the ruins of a universe. In exchange for white dwarves and lifeless spheres, bestowed upon us are radiant orbs and untouched galaxies. This is where I will learn to love youwhere a universe has shattered. We begin anew, orbiting and charting an unknown course. We dance as it dances, rotate and revolve from an explosion that signified and made way for our resurrection.

This is where I will learn to love you. Eternally, because even in death we know this is the way a universe lives. A universe never dies.

Shefon TaylorComment