Venus Falling.

There was a lone and very bright star sinking low in the western sky tonight. I know next to nothing about astronomy, but I gather it was probably Venus. How very appropriate, and how agonisingly poignant given the events of the past few days.

I’ve always been largely a stranger to the concept of ‘missing’ a person. I suppose it’s because I’ve rarely got close enough to anybody to understand it; I’ve even wondered what it meant on several occasions when somebody said ‘I’ll miss you.’

I remember missing somebody badly once, way back at the end of the last millennium. It was pretty awful. And now I’m doing it again – twice in one lifetime! And it’s still pretty awful. And that lone bright star in the west recalled things – promises and prospects, words and worries, hopes and highlights, magic and misgivings, longings and leavings. It was so very distant, you see, and yet it still had light enough to illuminate the ragged rim of the void and reveal the impenetrable darkness beyond.

It’s finally dawning on me that connections are the spider silk that binds the web that traps the human experience that feeds humanity. There is much to explore beyond it, of course, but without the web there is no base from which to go about the job.