The sky is so clear tonight. I stood smoking in my driveway, watched for one wandering meteor lost in the night. There was a dog barking on the next row over, but he seemed farther away than the stars. If I'd have seen one shoot overhead, I'd have wished that damn dog silent. But I suppose maybe there's someone in charge up there after all, saved me from wasting a wish on a midnight mutt.
Or maybe, as usual, I forgot about the meteor shower, remembered a week too late.
I don't know if there's a God like the Christians say, or maybe a bunch like the old Egyptians believed. Or maybe the Universe, in all its dazzling complexity and beauty, is a God in its own right. That's the way I see it. Truth is maybe I don't want to know. I don't want Science to scare me with a hungry black hole, or religion to tell me how it's all going to come to some Apocolyptic end.
It doesn't matter, really, does it? For me, it will cease to matter that last night, when I stare into a surreal night sky, where no more silent wishes wander, and close my eyes to sleep.