It is only when gazing up upon the night sky littered with fragments of light that I feel so small, so in awe, yet so powerless, all at the same time. I realize how insignificant life is compared to the vastness lying beyond it, stretching into infinity. How humans are but threads in the fabrics of existence, temporary flames with a timer already set until a moment should come to extinguish and erase. This is a dream world we live in, composed of happy illusions and nightmares we cannot escape from. And even when we are finally able to reach one another, reach across the many imaginary boundaries that divide us, divide you and I and I from them, we are no better than the stars studded about the night. Each narrates its own story, and even when they appear so, so close, as if with a little help they might collide with one another, remember that they are light years apart. I look at the sky without really seeing it, but neither do I see past the illusions. They are not lies but far from the truth. Then I think, what does it matter when we are all so insignificant compared to nature, all so powerless to fight fate and our own self-deception. In the end, we are the size of particles and nothing more. With one exception, that because our bodies are fueled with warm blood, with consciousness, with passion, with life, we are able to determine our destinies.