The first words out of my mouth as I walked outside this evening were "Holy shit!"
I know, terribly eloquent, right? Well, you would have said the same thing if you had seen what I had seen. Right as my eyes hit the sky, I was treated to the most fantastic cosmic display I've witnessed since my days in Girl Scout camp. It's one of those frighteningly perfect nights, clear and crisp as if all the clouds were taken hostage and put into nuclear missile silos, or perhaps forced into North Korea (since even clouds can't get out of there), so that they don't ruin the delicately pinholed velvet majesty of the night. All the stars that I could possibly see tonight were showing their bright, shiny faces, sending their light directly to me from years ago. Sure, I know that, those years ago, the stars did not know that they were going to be seen by me, but it somehow comforts me in a vain way to pretend that they did.
This is the kind of night you spend walking, jacketless, down the street just to appreciate the greater picture. This is the kind of night you spend on the roof with some friends lighting incense, or anything else for that matter (I'm not particular). This is the kind of night during which you allow yourself to stray from the streetlights just to be able to view the full spectrum of what is, or was, out there, to marvel at how small you are. This is the kind of in which you step outside, look up, and say "Holy shit" because that's all there is to say.