-As time dissipates and false idols fade, we are left with greater lucidity. We come to understand it is the stars and not the roof that had to burn away to reveal them that really matter. Along the trajectory of experience, of existence, many roofs will burn and just as many stars ignite. As these lights appear, they become our true North. They become the light by which life means; the light which spills frightening shadows and allowing the dying embers breath.
It was a humble home. We had planned it as our starter, in what we hoped would be a brief period of beginning. It was strewn by the harsh winds of storms. It was withered. On a night when she was away, it burned. First, the roof and then the rest of the structure followed. It was a cold night and the wind took vengeance on the strip of land on which the structure stood. It scattered the fire about and swallowed the smoke. I stood at the edge and watched it all. The flames reached out and then shrank back; the heat and then the complete absence. It did not last very long. The flames starved when there was nothing left, except for embers fading in the night. I was already covered in ash and thus thought little of stepping into the charred remains and keeping warm. Without any obstructions, the stars shone brightly overhead. When she returned, she cried for the loss of the hut, but it was the stars that took her breath away.