call me star-child

When I was young, I dreamt of space –  space would be big enough even for me to find a place where I belong. Only the interstellar nebulae with their multidimensional structures of infinite colour spectra would be complex enough to hold all my dreams and thoughts. At school people used to say I was from Alpha Centauri, but I knew more than them about the worlds beyond our atmosphere, so I told them they were stupid because because Alpha Centauri was, is, will be until it explodes a star, not a planet, and my body is just like theirs, like yours, not made to live in the fires of a sun but in a realm both earthy and filled with cool air tasting of home and freedom. They tried to extinguish the flame of my adventurous spirit, my sense of wonder, tried to chase me out of a starry-eyed scientist’s Eden. But here I am, burning slower now that I’m not in the body of a child hungry for candy-cotton clouds of mysteries anymore, but still I’m burning strong, I reclaimed space and the oceans for my dreams now that the past seems farer away than the moon, so yes, you can call me star-child. I’m what some people might call indigo, a stranger, a visitor. You won’t be able to find my sign on the zodiac, you won’t know my ancestry so you might think I’m fairy born, one of the wee old folks dreaming away among moss covered stones and ivy curtains blowing between trees, but it’s just that the instincts for a way of life older than theirs and yours are encoded in my genes, my soul knows it was created by the only one more ancient than the stars. So call me star-child, for I am their younger sister.


“[…] You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God […]” (Max Ehrmann, “Desiderata”, 1927)

And yes, the thing about fellow students at school claiming I was from Alpha Centauri really did happen, and not only once.


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