These Stars

A Story by HerbsWords

Personal Journal Unedited

As a resident from the suburbs of Pennsylvania, I have the privilege, on those lucid nights, to stare upon those tiny fires that we know as stars. It is relaxing, moving and truly something to behold. A blessing for lack of better word. But this sight is literally nothing, not even a pinprick, compared to the stupendous exhibit which the stars render in the sky’s of the west. If we are blessed, then the west is ordained, canonized and beatified. The show that coasts across their night sky is so mind beguilingly inspiring that I could not find a word to describe such. Every night, regardless of the clarity, is something that everyone must taste before they die. A sea of gentle fire, varying in both proportions and luminosity, expands the arcane sky. I lay there, at the bottom of the Grand Canyon on a sandy bank of the Colorado River, frozen and stunned. Such a mass number of stars, unable to grasp or obtain enough visual stimulation from these million, dancing luster's. Admittedly, there could be a war going on, but still my gaze would falter not a bit. These heavenly bodies have such a hypnotic tendency. It was hard leave, hard to detract from their hold, hard to leave the west.