Why are we so fascinated by tales about wars in the stars? I’d say it’s because we project the chaos of our own little blue ball of rock to somewhere else out there, all because it’s easier than admitting we’ve got a universe of mess right here. We pin our hopes on imaginary worlds in distant galaxies, hanging our dreams on event horizons of black holes, wishfully thinking that these stars are something we can reach, something we can fix. But those distant stars, and the civilizations who may or may not inhabit their satellites don’t give a damn about us, and nor should they.

Heck, we’ve got stars walking among us, right here living and breathing brilliance going often unnoticed. Sadly, too much of the time, we don’t see them, not until they’re burned out, drowned in all the toxic fumes we call “reality.”  Jealousy and hate snuff out light faster than any vacuum of deep space.

Beauty so often hides in plain sight. You’ll miss it at first glance; hell, maybe even a second. But it’s always there—in the curve of a leaf, the way the wind bites just right, or in the face of someone who refuses to dim their glow despite all the mud bullies will throw.

Mother Nature’s got beauty down pat already, in every damn thing she births, whether you’re watching or not. Yet so many of us walk past wonders every day, eyes glazed over with our faces buried in blue light screens. It’s as if we’re awaiting something cosmic to fall from the heavens and crash land right in front of us, while the stars we’ve got burn out unnoticed at our feet.

~ Amelia Desertsong, February 18, 2025