By Mark Lipman
Once upon a time there was a shooting star. And this shooting star was very happy, because when it passed the sky at night it could see all the lovers gazing up at it in wonder. But then one night, when he was shining in all his glory, he heard a whisper from way, way far below on earth and what he heard terrified him, because someone had pointed up at him in the sky and said that he wasn’t a star at all, but a meteorite.
“A meteorite!” he shrieked within himself. “How horrible!” How could it be that he was merely a meteorite? And as he listened to the voices below he began to discover.
“You see,” continued the whisper, “when a meteorite passes close to the earth some particles break off and burn up in the atmosphere and that is what we see.”
“What a tragic ending!” thought the meteorite in shame. A star, is the greatest creature in the universe – it gives warmth and light. Without the stars nothing could live. To be degraded to just a meteorite in a second’s time – and not even that, but just a piece – just a fragment – dust – that’s what he was – just the dust off a meteorite – it was more than he could bare … but then, just as he reached his deepest despair, another, much softer, much sweeter voice rose up into the air, “Oh look, a shooting star,” said the voice. “How beautiful it is.”
And with that his heart beat just a bit faster and he chanced a glance downward to see where those words had come from and at that very moment he spied the lovers’ kiss. And with that he raced across the sky in a fiery red.
Just dust he may be – but that, that is what dreams are made of.