Reflections on a shooting star

I’m standing on a small patch of grass between two brick buildings. Paved sidewalks and an alleyway box me in. The faint buzz of artificial lighting and passing cars.

I look up at the sliver of night sky within my view - canopied by buildings, tangled telephone wires, and the hazy glow of unnatural light.

A shooting star goes by.

For a brief moment I am propelled into a sea of thoughts about the majesty of this planet, the intricacies of it, and how small I am in its wake. That I’m able to witness a meteor burning as it enters Earth’s atmosphere. Awareness of my place in all of this: one of billions of humans on a planet that is hurtling a million miles per hour through outer space, orbiting an unfathomably large star; a planet on the edge of a galaxy which is estimated to be just one of possibly 2 trillion galaxies.

Standing in this concrete jungle, my mind races: life, death, consciousness. Progress and perspective on place.

This chance observation fills my cup, reverence for each fleeting link to what is beyond as I drown in all that it is to be human.