The Milkyway

A Story by Maddison

she will never know love because she was too beautiful to see

Something soft yet powerful that coerced the universe into its being yet so difficult to study, so difficult to understand.

Perhaps, it never wanted us to study it, never wanted the beings it created to know of itself aside from the glinting pieces of wonder it shines once the daytime fades and the beaming orb of night rises to explore the surface of our hemispheres.

Perhaps it simply wanted to form us from dust, from ash, from moon, from star. Maybe it simply sat with itself and melded us from honey-like feelings of warmth and freedom with shadowing ones of fever and malice.

Perchance, it made the becoming of her being a beautiful fest, with wonderful, elegant and sublime feelings concerning its mind. Crystallizing its vision of delicate feebleness with brown locks and pale skin to cover her celestial form; fabricating its thoughts of the contours of her chin, cheeks and collarbones.

Softly, it would move its large fingers while keeping its eyes closed and expertly ease the ever so red lips and pinked cheeks into the stars. It would bestow her with the eloquence of a million galaxies, the ethereal appearance of a thousand nebulae, melding the cynosure of wonder.

I often imagine how her being would guide carefully through the labyrinthine narrows of the kuiper belt, the valleys of mars and the slippery dunes of an ice giant. Her blithe overcoming the rays of the sun as she turns and brings her slow fingers to her eyes to provide cover. Then, she would begin to snivel as tears made of stardust would rain from her warmly crafted irises of purple and turquoise. She would collapse, he hair creating an evanescent cloud of starlight. She would stay there, at the ground beneath her, and wail for hours. She calls out for years after this, trying to locate another being to fill the void that the universe has created within her; a black hole that swallows at her honey-velvet happiness instead to replace it with loneliness and loss.

She will never know love, never know rest as she prows for contact. But she will never find it, she is alone. She was too perfect for beings to see, too opulent, too beautiful. So the universe will keep her for as long as the stars burn, asteroids collide and the nebulae that form her sparkle. She is forever and intangible; she will never find or be found. She is beauty.

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