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i don’t know who i am,
but now i know who i’m not.
i’m just a curious speck
that got caught up in orbit.
💫
The first time he saw a star fall, it was a late, quiet night.
Raziol was entering his youth years, and with them, he started to dare his body to stay awake for longer than it usually would. He liked it, really. When the moon was at its highest and the stars were the brightest, the Academy was silent in a way it could never be during daytime. There were, of course, whispers of voices and footsteps of men much older than him that were used to do those kinds of endeavors, but Raziol didn’t mind them. He would stay alone in his room and, looking out the window, he wouldn’t feel lonely. The stars were there with him, like they had always been.
That particular night, the stars felt closer than ever. If he reached out to them, Raziol thought, he would feel them grazing his palms, their endless light passing through the spaces between his fingers and warming him thoroughly, to the very center of his being. And maybe one of them would stay, bright and wondrous, and whisper all the secrets of the universe right into his ear, unraveling every mystery Raziol had yet to discover. Maybe then things would make sense. Maybe then he would be able to know where he belonged, where he came from and where he could go.
That was his hope when looking and studying the stars: that by understanding their place and function in the universe, he would know his own.
As he was tracing the belt of Orion, listening to its story, he saw it: a star crossed the sky in a blink, and disappeared into the horizon. A breath after, another one followed.
Raziol gasped as marvel lit up his eyes, every nerve in his body buzzing in a way they always did when he stumbled upon an unbelievable discovery. Master Huygens had only told him about a phenomenon like that, a parade of what seemed to be shooting stars spreading across the dark blue surface of the night, but Raziol had only been able to dream of it until then. He even thought it was happening again. But as he pinched the skin of his left arm, he was certain he was wide awake and the stars were raining.
Where were they falling to? What was catching them, and what could? Why were they falling in the first place? Were they dying? Were they really stars, or something else?
Each question was accompanied by the sight of another ephemeral trace of light. Raziol knew he needed to move, write down what he was seeing to calculate and theorize much later, but he could only stare in awe, his fingertips quivering with barely contained emotion.
Unconsciously, he wished— for one to fall to him. He wouldn’t let it touch the floor. He would catch it in his hands carefully and keep it safe somewhere, anywhere. In a jar. In some water. In his chest, near his heart. He would study its light variations, its weight, its temperature, and listen to whatever secrets it hid between them. He would find himself reflected on its surface and, at last, know himself completely.
One of them fell right above his head. He saw it cross the sky and wanted to follow.
As he reached his hand out, the cold and smooth surface of the glass meeting his fingers reminded him of his inability of doing so. He was human, and, as such, he had to abide to the laws of gravity, of the people, of his own heart. Countless weights held him in place, not enough to sink, but also too much to flee. He could not follow the stars or travel to other planets. He could only stay there, feet to the ground and eyes to the sky, and observe the stars as they stared back.
It wasn’t all bad, of course. At the end, how else would he study them? How could he properly admire their magnitude if not from afar? How else would he see the patterns, the subtle changes of position, the irregularities, all that was yet to be discovered and named? Another star fell as Raziol let out a sigh of content, letting his chin rest on his free palm. For a brief moment, he could almost believe he was exactly in the place he was meant to be.
Even stars fell, he thought, not knowing where they would land, hopeless to the force of gravity acting upon them. That didn’t make them any less fascinating.
The tiniest of smiles bloomed in Raziol’s lips as another star crossed the sky, the curve that it traced offering a similar gesture in return.
💫
Later that day, Huygens revealed he had been awake too, and explained further about the phenomenon while they discussed his annotations. Raziol’s world tilted on its axis as he learned a new word: meteor.
💫
Many years later, during another sleepless night, Raziol saw a meteor cross the sky outside his window in a gentle greet.
As he did back then, and every time it happened since, a buzzing feeling of exhilaration washed over him, mouth agape as his eyes widened, glittering and awake. Even if his knowledge of the universe had expanded greatly since that first meteor shower, he still felt that same youthful thrill with the same intensity. He couldn’t help it: he was enamored with every single serendipity the universe allowed him to contemplate. It reminded him that, despite everything, he had a reason to be.
It wasn’t long before another meteor followed, and then another, inviting him to keep them company as they started their parade.
Raziol didn’t need to be asked twice. He needed a distraction, then more than ever. It was as if the sky knew he wanted someone to listen, someone to see, someone to keep him company during the uncertainty of time.
The fleeting memories of green eyes, a cold touch and shared secrets crossed his mind, making him realize in a wave of infinite warmth that there was a lot he and the meteors needed to catch up on— and there was someone he wanted to introduce them to.
💫
make my messes matter,
make this chaos count.
let every little fracture in me
shatter out loud.