The Splendor of the Stars

He crossed the room toward the door as evening fell, the daylight slowly fading and spilling on the floor in pools of black. The child was still there on the stoop, mewling and wriggling in her basket, an urchin, so pathetic and alone, abandoned like a buried memory. He took her in his arms and held her close; his touch would bring her comfort like a well-remembered song as he bathed her by the fire and dressed her warm. The lovelight in her eyes, uncompromising, took his breath away. Older folks should live their lives this way, invest their souls with such unwavering devotion that there is no need for worry, or cause for anger, just the pure and perfect eloquence of faith. She took some nourishment and grew stronger; the seasons waxed and waned and no one came to claim her, so they became sufficient to themselves, anticipating one another's wants and needs. Up on the the high ground they would wonder at the heavens as they strolled by waters shimmering in starlight, dazzling their eyes to tears of happiness. Storms beset them, and still they bore it all like two creatures who have come to trust the power of their love. Sunlight crossed to starlight, he grew sad and incomplete. His mind left him, struggling and blind, as time drifted by like a slow and gentle stream. She cared for him now, as he had cared for her so many years before, caressing his brow, bringing light to his dark eyes, and she wept quietly when her friend at last departed. Alone she settled to her thoughts like a child wrapped in a blanket and slept, remembering his kindnesses and strength. Finally she gave in to her loss, no longer able to endure the pain of grief. The Father blessed her, held her in his arms and re-united them, forever, in the splendor of the stars.