I used to put glow in the dark stars on my ceiling as a child. As if the confines of my room were too much and I needed the illusion of the grand world in the very square ness of my room. I would lie there imagining all that was beyond the constellations I had meticulously picked out.
I ended up laying sprawled out on the carpet of my room tonight. Wishing I had those stars again to put up with careful thought, as if by designed the prudently laid out stars could mimic a plan for my life. A self-declared horoscope on the roof in which I hid out, seeking shelter. This time though I was hoping to bring the world in and not expand out. The diminutive time I have already traveled this world has lead me to a few conclusions that sometimes a set time, minutes to dwell in your own presences of mind was as needed and as necessary as exploring unknown trails.
But then as my eyes wander haphazardly across treasures of previous journeys, my spirit grows restless: from the serious stone statue from Belize to the sketched woman from France looking as perplexed as I feel. This world is just too limitless in all that it has to offer, and I will neither have the ample amounts of time to explore every corner of it or be satisfied in moments to reflect or learn enough from all that I saw. So I will have to contently sit tonight drawing out constellations with stars I no longer have and count from memory the footsteps I have already left behind.