The Star

I took the dog for a walk today along Coal Creek. It was dark out. The path was difficult to see. As I walked I realized how what I was doing was a metaphor for my life -- walking in darkness along a trail whose end I cannot see, able to discern only the bend immediately ahead.

The leaves whispered in the trees above. Dead leaves and gravel crunched beneath my feet. What secret did the leaves tell one another? Perhaps they spoke of their approaching death, or of the oncoming winter. The pine trees had told them about winter, for of course they themselves have never seen it. The pine trees know immortality. They've seen many many winters. The leaves of the deciduous trees will never see even one. They will die before that time comes. What do the leaves think of it? What tales do they pass amongst themselves? Perhaps only jokes and gossip. Maybe leaves don't worry themselves with something they cannot change. Maybe they don't worry about death. Maybe they enjoy their day in the sun then let it go, knowing that life goes in seasons.

Whereas I walk in the sunlight that is not light and long for the darkness in which stars shine. That's what this surrounding darkness does for me -- I can see the light of the Star because of it.

The star. The beacon. The guide. It stands for hope of renewal and renewal of hope, the waters of life poured forth. In the darkness can be seen the light.

I don't walk in total darkness. The Star shines forth, guiding me.