Blue Stars

The dark sky reflected in the dark blue pool. Such beauty as the stars held themselves beneath the tranquil water. To look up is to see infinity; to look below is to almost touch the stars. 1

There’s something about this place that seems to bring out the sky. A warm wind will occasionally blow through the silver reeds and send ripples across the pond. Even on the coldest night you can feel the almost-warm breath of the place against your cheek.2

Most people when that talk about the midnight sky say that it’s black, but I disagree. It’s always been blue. On looking at the stars, I am reminded again of what these silly poets say… that the stars are like glitter thrown across the wet canvas of the sky. This, too, I believe false. The sky is not black ink with bits of tacky glitter spilled over it, but truly a brilliant silver light with blue lain carefully over it to protect your eyes, leaving holes for the stars that give us a hint of the beauty that lies behind the veil.3

The stars in the water are another matter. They’re so much closer, but just one touch, and they’re gone. The tiniest stirring on the water’s edge send across ripples that would steal the stars from you; the stars that you worked so hard to reach for.4

When nights come here, a sort of magic takes over. But during the day, I try to avoid the place as much as possible. Under harsh yellow light and faded blue sky, the reeds stand rigid and the water murky. The wind that tries to persuade the reeds to dance isn’t warm and gentle, but rough and demanding.5

To look up it to drown in infinity, to look down is to nearly touch the stars. Every night, I come here, and drown in the sky above, wondering at the light behind the veil. Tonight I looked below, and reached for the stars that seemed so much closer. I fell into the water, and drowned amongst the stars.6