The Dying Star

The dying star was a blue blur in the telescope 

As soon as he said that we’d be looking at a dying star, I felt uneasy. A strange dizziness hit me in that small observatory. 

A dying star?? . . . A dying star? 

It felt like something I shouldn’t see. 

The death of a star . . .

Who wants to watch anything die? Let alone something as beautiful and mysterious as a star? Not me. Not I. I don’t want to watch an angel die. I’d rather not be here when the dying of the light finally extinguishes.

It felt as intimate as watching a birth and a death in the same moment. 

And as I climbed up the stairs on shaky legs to the giant telescope, I was afraid. I am just a handsome fella living on the third rock from the sun. I am no one. I don’t deserve to watch a star die and seed the space around it with new life through its death. No, no. It’s not something mortal eyes should see. 

I feel sick, as I look into the telescope. A tiny blue blur, not a star, shines in the middle of the circle. 

It’s sick . . . It’s sick!  . . . No, I remember, it’s dying.