he was sitting there. on the cold, rough driveway; on that cold, rough night. the others ran around playing games. games of the past, of the simpler days. games like hide and seek, and freeze tag. it was actually rather cold outside as he sat, looking up at all the stars. he didn’t have his jacket, he’d left that inside. it was also rather dim outside. the only light came from that of a street light overhead. and although it was so dark, the street light was so bright in his face. shining so bright, in fact, that it seemed that it was laughing at him. saying, “haha, look at you and your sad poor little life. ha! you even have to rely on me for light!” he wished it would just turn off. he didn’t want the light. he just wanted the stars. but that light continued shining.
there were other street lights too. behind the trees, behind houses, causing the trees and houses to be mere silhouettes. the shape is clearly seen, but what is in the shape is a complete mystery. he hears the others laughing and playing. knowing that he could be too, if he wanted. but he sat, gazing upward at the stars. wishing that he could just pocket one of them. carry it away with him. for times when all was dark. then those around him would just see his silhouette. but he would have the warmth and the light of the wondrous star.
light is such a mysterious thing. the way it works. the way it affects life so much. it affects the shadows: their length, whether they be long or short, whether they even be there at all. it affects peoples vision: without light all would be just blindly following nothing. light helps us all to find where we’re going. it helps us to see. but at the same time, when something obstructs the light from view the light hides it. causing this silhouette. this mystery.
is it possible that at some point people can be standing right in front of the light, see just what is right and what is there and yet, to be a silhouette, to be a complete mystery, to be a mere silhouette?