I walk down the suburban street, familiar even in the shadows, with moonlight mixed with streetlight dappled over the sidewalk. It is silent; the nocturnal creatures keep quiet, and the creatures that are so loud and violent during the day hide within their picket-fence burrows.
It is a sudden urge, a whim. I act on it. I look right, I look left, and I step into the street. I sprawl out in the center of the road, the hard concrete soft against my tired back. I look straight up. The sky is a deep navy, sprinkled with bright pinpricks of light, oblivious to the troubles that they are sovereign over.
It is a calming sight in a desperate time. My life is insignificant. I am just another collection of muscles and bones wrapped in skin, and despite the problems that present themselves, the stars will still be blazing, careless and free. They live peacefully, and die without being burdens.
Perhaps, when push comes to shove, the world is in a bad way, we can remedy our hearts' pain by simply laying back and gazing at the stars.