Starlight Tears
Saturday, June 9th, 2012

The sun set earlier, leaving orange sherbet streaks in the cerulean-blue sky.  It was almost 8:00 PM, the tilt of the Earth inclining the northern hemisphere toward the sun; it was already dark south of the equator.  The same sun, the same time of day, but half a world away was not warm and summerlike with late evening sun, but already cold and dark. 

So many things break my heart constantly.  It is not a complaint.  The salt of tears is an essential flavor to accompany the banquet of living.  And sometimes I get bitter about it, as if it were not invited, as if I did not seek to squeeze the precious emotion from each and every moment, as if I did not embrace the heartbreak with all the verve and gusto of a passionate lover.  As if I did not love to cry. 

On this longitudinal slice of the Earth, it is now dark in both places, North and South of the equator. The night unifies–briefly–the American continents under softly starlit skies, twinkling tears in the eyes of heaven.

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