There are many stars in the sky this night. They are dull and empty, like fireflies about to die. But they aren't dying. Not yet at least.
I should like to think that one of the important ones withers out, and watch the rest of the constellation fend for itself. Would the others notice the second it happened? Would they mourn the blank space for years, until they realize that the constellation looks better that way?
But those questions are fruitless without truth. I should like to see the truth. Rather. The world deserves to know the truth.
My mind wanders so. I should not think of these things. They say my mind needs rest. Perhaps I shall.
But perhaps not. I must discover the truth. The world deserves to know. It must know. I must know.
Go to sleep, they say. I walk inside. But my soul is still out there, staring at the stars, thinking. I must know. I must.
