The walk from my truck wasn’t to far from the beach so I carried my telescope instead of rolling it along the sand. Denver jumped out of the truck from the passenger door, and ran towards the beach to chase the seagulls wagging his tail in a frenzy. The telescope wasn’t heavy enough to ask someone for a helping hand, and no one was around anyways so I lugged it out awkwardly onto a flat spot where a log had washed ashore who knows how many years ago. I’d been watching the sky from this exact spot for a few months now and began to notice some small changes in the constellations that I felt obliged to document. The beach was quiet during this time of the evening and the ocean breeze urged me to put another coat on so I started towards my truck. Denver followed. As I draped my coat over my head, I looked up to the night sky questioning what could cause such curious mysteries. Perhaps there was a cosmic entity eating worlds and harvesting stars, born from the same faction as chaos wreaking havoc on the universe. Or perhaps stars had some sort of internal clock that when it struck zero the star would cease to emit light and radiation and go from existing in one moment, to poof, surrendering its existence in the next. But what was stealing these stars from different constellations and vanishing in the night like a midnight marauder? This was precisely what I wanted to document.
The night before last I had visited the library to research civilizations at the spearhead of astronomy to study the mysticism that coincided with there gods and religions. My night in the library didn’t prove valuable until I came across a tribe called the Dogons who were seemingly a simple tribe who lived in West Africa. Though their tools were rudimentary they possessed an unparalleled knowledge of the universe recorded with acute accuracy unknown to any other civilization at the time, until Galileo broke the boundary between man and star with the invention of a looking glass that could enhance our vision of the cosmos. The Dogons possessed a polytheistic culture born from their love and belief in the stars. Stemming from the intrinsic values of nature, life and death buttered the bread of their religion. Life was novelty constantly creating and reshaping the old into new. And death with its mortal reassurance of a meeting that is destined not only for man but for all things in the universe. Estella being the queen of the universe ruled with the novelty in which creation breeds a natural balance between things as life is devoured by death, and through death comes life. Galadrax was the crowned king of chaos which was just as necessary to the universe as Estella’s novelty was. The Dogons despised Galadrax for he was death, and the transitory was all he knew. He had no shrine nor worship, nobody loved him and it bred contempt. Estella angered Galadrax with all the reverence and adoration she received from her worshipers because of her hand which drew the grand and sublime artistry behind creation. A rift was created between the two siblings, a void between their cosmic hearts. The balance was thrown out of scale, outweighing each other in immeasurable moments of creation and destruction tipping one way then over long periods of time tipping the other way. It was an infinite jest to conquer one another between two omnipotent beings unknowing of the catastrophic consequences that would follow.
Now my love for the cosmic lore of the ancients couldn’t and would dissuade me from my study, so I pressed on in my research. Denver sat beside me in the sand gazing out over the ocean, watching the tide wash ashore again and again. To him he must have thought he was gazing into infinity. I pet him with solemn sincerity and returned to my telescope to gaze towards infinity as I knew it. As I turned my head upwards towards the sky, I looked through my modern-day looking glass and noticed that all the all the stars in the cosmos began to flicker and die.