As a child I was taught to draw six-pointed stars – two intersecting triangles – and colour them yellow. But as I looked up at the stars the other night they didn’t look yellow at all.
I’m thinking about being in the moment and wondering what the moment actually is. My head reminds me with Elizabeth Jennings that my now is not the stars’.
“The radiance of the star that leans on me
Was shining years ago. The light that now
Glitters up there my eyes may never see,
And so the time lag teases me with how
Love that loves now may not reach me until
Its first desire is spent. The star’s impulse
Must wait for eyes to claim it beautiful
And love arrived may find us somewhere else.”