"Always on the run, flying through the vacuum of space, he never convened all his willpower to truly stop and appreciate what’s there. What’s happening in the now.
Shit, it’s gone, all of it. There’s nothing for him. It’s so empty and dark. Until he caught a faint trace there with him, all the way at the bottom; a muse to expand upon.
He labors away on it to grab hold of every possible scent, every transient glimpse. In some capacity life can be comical like that. He must pay close attention, but soon enough he’s swept off his feet in a flowing rivulet of ideas.
Although this overwhelming sense of creativity may seem insignificant to the rest, its power in his world holds an immense greatness. It’s there, he’s focused, fabricating something short of awe out of thin air.
This process speeds by very quickly, and towards the end the realization hits him. All this time, all this work. I made this. Relax, it’s fine. Float a while. Someone will be moved, what he made will make whole planets tremor. Their anticipation grows, not full of fear, but excitement. They shout, “What did he create?!”
He leaves before recognition is rightly due, cruising by the celestial sights. Calming his heart through the wonder he frowns. Wait, what was that? He hears something lost within all the sounds, beckoning him closer. His curiosity takes over and he finds himself following the beacon, yet it grows fainter the more he draws near. It weakens into a delicate twinkle.
A BURST OF STARDUST. It sings to him, comforting a weary traveler who needs nurturing. It’s a strenuous burden staying gone and alone for so long. He’s genuinely happy and full of never-ending warmth, a joyous experience to have been through. I could cry.
So many emotions taking place, enveloped in a small scope too much to bear, but he stays. It’s familiar and motivating, what soon brings the much-needed change in the universe will originate within him.
This sensation begins to fade. He stands there as he feels it leave him through a black tunnel. Racing after it won’t do any good. He gives up.
A tap on the shoulder and he spins around. A new feeling overcomes his senses, one full of companionship and support. It’s strange but slow, new but not sinister in the slightest, that is until they take him on an adventure he isn’t ready for. It eventually evens out. Their encouragement makes it easier for him to deal with suffering.
He begins to see the beauty through clouded and judgmental thoughts, even when there isn’t much to see outside the window. Vibrant colors here and there, they come to conquer any challenge with genuine smiles.
We’ve been there with him the whole time too. I didn’t even notice. Another journey can subconsciously mimic our own. We need to take a break and loosen up. Lay down with them for a while, listen to the scenery with something other than our eyes. This place is only on the way to where we’re meant to be.
Time’s up and he’s on his feet again. He calls everyone over, but stops them from boarding the ship with him. This all seemed so fast, but here I go.
He holds an intense gaze. “Remember, we will not settle for the alternative. We will not settle for no effect. I for sure won’t stay paralyzed with unfamiliarity, so I plan on channeling these poor feelings into leaps that I hope will brighten my life. I hope you all do this too.” With a beaming reassurance and a tear in his eye he lifts his hand.
“Please,” he says, “kiss the ocean for me.”
Although we are not a permanent factor in his trek, he left a major mark on ours. Is there an underlying need to pass it on? We need only to act on it. We blink and he’s gone.