Dear Mr. Universe,

I stared at your blue skin today. I love how smooth you are on some days, and how rough you are when you turn gray and water falls from somewhere beyond the heavens. And yet, despite everything else, you remain bright for twelve or so hours of the day.

And then the night fell, and you turned so dark. So dark that I couldn’t tell if you’re skin was silk or riddled with the blemishes that we call clouds. So instead, I just gazed upon your freckles, the stars, and noticed that when observed with extra vigor, they radiate red, blue, and of course, the whitest white. That is, until the light returns and slowly begins to climb to the tip-top of the sky and brighten the world as far as I can see.

Mr. Universe, today I experienced one of those things that people call an epiphany. You shine so bright in the day, and make sure the world can see your stars at night so that we’re reminded that the onset of darkness does not signify the ending of brightness. The light never leaves us, as we believe it to. Rather, it just stays right there, while we turn away to disregard its existence. So you make sure to leave the stars all around to ensure us that nowhere where we turn, there are those beads of light that we’ve become so reliant upon.

I guess we should say “thank you.”