The Consciousness of Stars

A photon born on our sun

might travel billions of light years before reaching a distant world

or it might live just eight minutes before landing warm and bright on my face.

If stars are conscious, sending light in all directions they could know the contours of the entire universe

but I have only two little rays to look after.

They dance to the music of the ocean right in front of me, like the sunlight dances on the water. They are safe, and close.

And slow, even though sometimes if I turn my head for too long I swear they've grown an inch.

My mind knows we're on the surface of a rock hurtling through the vastness of space at nearly 500,000 miles per hour

and with the wind in my hair on the beach I believe it.

But if I try, I can make my mind quiet and just feel.

And the feeling is gratitude.

When the sun disappears from view, it trusts that I am still here, even if its light no longer confirms it.

And when I kiss my two satellites goodnight I try to do the same.

Maybe time stretches as far as space, but the body doesn't. This collection of aches and memories only has a few more trips around.

I walk back out across the sand and introduce myself to the moon.