I'll follow you down while we're spinning through space. And often when we are not distracted by the spectacle of the endless void that surrounds us, we will take time to reflect that there has to be a certain symmetry to the lineaments of heaven.
It is cold up here and often lonely, but in the gaps between stars and other constellations one can see that symmetry, that logic that keeps the stars, the moons and the planets in their orbits. If I listen closely enough for long enough; I fancy I can even hear the music of the spheres. But those spheres travel in other regions that I can not reach or see to make a certain determination.
There is a kind of beauty in such things if one knows where to look to find it.
In fact, the seven sisters, or the Pleiades is the closet to the world we once called home; for we knew no better, until we found ourselves up here; but that's a tale for another day.
Sometimes when the sisters were in a chatty mood they would gossip about how Orion saw them all together once;, or perhaps just one alone as they walked through the Beotian countryside, and took a fancy to them. He pursued them for seven years. That is, until Zeus, Sky-Father, answered their prayers for delivery and transformed them into doves, and placed them among the stars.
I’ve also heard tell that regardless of how they are called, mariners and generals still plan their spring campaigns according to the waning and waxing of the light of the Seven Sisters, or the Pleiades, which in their native language means many. Very aptly named, I must say.
If it is said that we loved not well but too much; than so be it, I say. If, as the saying goes, that pride goeth before a fall; then I must tell you it is not the fall but the landing that gets you every time.
The heavens are dotted here and there with the lights of other stars, forming other constellations and other stellar clusters.
Each point of light; no matter how distant shines with its own light, of course, one must take into account one’s distance from the prime star, our solar System’s Sun. A curious creature calling itself Voyager passed by once and was overheard to say that the mortals are currently rethinking the formation of the stars and how and when they came into being.
Once, when a comet came flashing by in its path toward the sun I learned that in many places, many peoples say that the souls of great warrirors and heroes go to dance among the stars.
Perhaps they do; for I know not enough of such matters to speak to that. But I digress.
Orion is up here, but I will say nothing on that matter. One would think we would learn to absolve some griefs, but since those were sorrows of the past, they should be better left exaxctly where they belong; in the past.
Orion is a hunter. I suppose even, as the old saying goes: mutatis mutandis, the more things change; the more they stay the same. Once a hunter, I guess, always a hunter. He’s more famous down there than even the sisters or I.
As for me, one might well ask. I hardly speak of it anymore. I don’t even know why I brought it up, but as I mentioned the sisters can be gossipy, and I...."Well, I feel in a reminiscing mood tonight and will touch on the ‘Incident.'
You see, I was once a royal: hight the queen of Ethiopia. Beautiful, rich, desirable; and I had everything I could ever want or even dream of.
However, I grew vain and tempted by risking the wrath of the gods. In my life, the gods in cruel design placed my daughter, Andromeda in such peril, that the hero Perseus had to save her from nearly drowning in the sea. This story had a happy ending; not all of these stories do; I think that is the nature of these things.
But in death: she too was brought up here, I think. The mortals even named a galaxy named after her. My daughter, Andromeda: beautiful, fearless, and loved by a Hero, so much so that their loved transcended everything. She gets a galaxy. Am I jealous, Aldebran, the red star that makes up the eye of the Taurus the Bull once asked.
“No, No. She is my daughter, and despite how things shook out in the past, I am not jealous. I am proud.
My stars circle each other, endlessly, looping over and over one another.
Ours is just a little sorrow now. I suppose that, long ago, with the mirror in my hand reversed, this was supposed to teach me a lesson in vanity and in tempting fate, and what happens when a mere mortal dares to flaunt even the Gods of Mount Olympus.
The endless round up here no longer cares about such things. Sometimes one of the sisters or even a neighboring stellar cluster will become curious about how things stand on the long-ago home we left behind. If our stories are still remembered or even if they have been changed. Time is fluid up here: sometimes moments past in the blink of an eye. At other times moments they drag on forever.
No one, so far as I knew, wishes that they could undo the state that they are now in and go back, but they do have a certain curiosity about their origins.
I suppose I wish I had answers, for better or for worse, but I don’t know. I suppose that change is possible even inevitable.
Posiedon arranged to have me placed up here. I will not speak on how this is accomplished for one it is a Mystery, and for another the memories are fading now like the dwarf star that flickers and burns as bright as it possibly can for as long as it can; then burns out, leaving only cosmic dust.
I can let you on a little secret, we all started as some form of cosmic dust, and perhaps we will return in that form some day.