The sun has completed her trick and slides back the other way. The ancients feared the worst. We know better; all science and such…. The world is shit, and soon to get more so. I fear the worse of each new southern sun.
The artist took his own life. His beautiful girlfriend looked distraught on tv. “Man,” I thought, “he must have serious issues, she is beyond reproach….” But then I am shallow. His torment was untouchable by simple beauty. So, I wonder, how ruined has life become when love and security mean so little that you would sully them for the simple pleasure of destroying it all in sadness? I fold my arms and turn away from the tv: life is tough enough, without seeing how the gifted have thrown it away.
It’s Christmas time. Look at all the lights, and decorations. They bring beauty to the hideous and mundane. Within their twinkling I am returned to my five-year-old self. Children’s faces light up and the adults reach out warmly to one another; to strangers. These simple illuminations can mask the bitterness, cull the acrimony, If only for the season. I think therin lies the true miracle.