Interstellar

He stared at his fellow-star tenant, and thanked her for the adventure. Space and time had fought, resulting in a break in the continuum.

The shooting star he had wished upon was already dead. He’d believed her to be infinite, but at that moment, she felt empty…As empty as the vacuum that had existed in her heart when they kept taking pieces of her and she let them. He wondered if there was any word for that.

She often accused him of acting like a storm that often came unannounced and left after uprooting her from her being. He did not dismiss that particular allegation – he was human, and storms are, anyway, named after people; nebulae are not. She was made of stardust – they’d crushed her and she’d let them. She was now going to become a star, because that is how stars are born: they crumble, collapse, burn and then finally glow. As a child, he’d stared at the twinkling stars in the sky and wished upon them, but ever since he met her, the twinkle in her eyes was all that he’d needed. Was there a word for that?

She’d wished for something that had destroyed her. Her love for him had moulded her, but, ultimately, what she’d been able to sacrifice had defined her. He couldn’t come up with a word for that.

He’d always loved metaphors even though he had a hard time coming up with original ones by himself. Yet, life had given him the biggest metaphor in her form. Together, they’d embarked on an interstellar adventure, and in the name of allies, all they had were time pirates! Unfortunately, time had always been relative…Two years, two months, two weeks, two souls who kept responding to the hurt that was taken from them. What words could he use to define that? Time was relative, yes; but the hurts were subjective. Love had managed to transform them, and though it was always transcendent, their love had never been quantifiable.

He knew she was probably laughing upon hearing of his cosmic dilemmas. To her, nothing was complicated. Love was nothing but a fleeting glimpse of eternity that would last forever; love had always been free falling, space racing, never running-away but more of a running-towards. Love was nothing other than the North Star which one could always gravitate back to.

She wanted to return home to the star they came from. He used to call them “star tenants” because he believed they’d shared the same origin star. They’d embarked on the same voyage light years ago, but their pathways had been different. However, different star trails from the same star could only stay apart for so long until parallel lines and intersecting lines lost their meaning. The heart did not know of time, space, distance or choice. Heart-strings unravelled in the same way as did the fabric of the universe – there was a break in the continuum, and in their case it was a paradox of love called love.

He used to believe that a black hole is a passage through space and time. She wished he’d understand that time always stood still, making darkness perhaps the perfect place to love somebody. He did not realize that black holes were hugely dense objects, with an inescapable gravitational pull. When he’d fall, he’d fall forever. Forever. It meant there was no way out. She wished he’d allow himself to succumb to the vulnerability, to the fall…Only if he fell, could she catch him. She wished he’d allow midnight to become the easel he’d aligned his stars on – to write of his future infinitely, just like the artist and writer he was. He needed to reel himself back in; he needed to realize that the pursuit of happiness is nothing but a secret locked for safekeeping with the diamonds in the sky.

Space and time had had a fight, resulting in a break in the continuum. There was a break in the opposite end of the spectrum. What he’d believed to be infinite had become unwritten…Unwritten like the rest of his life before him. He wondered if there was a word for that. He realized that, indeed, there was a word for that! It was nothing but love. As he stared above, there it was! Against the dark sky, he saw a ray, an age-old ballad – of science and faith, love and hope. He saw white light - a million colours that briefly splattered across the easel, an aurora lasting all of eternity. He knew it was her light and in his heart, he preserved it and cherished it while it lasted. Finally, he no longer saw a black hole as a dead end anymore.