On a certain Tuesday evening, the sky swirled with the grim colours of an oncoming storm — layers of heavy grayscale clouds, allowing only a muted glow to show through where the sun should be setting.
The flock of bipeds scurrying about on the surface was barely bothered by this. Barely flustered, barely moved. Barely affected. They went about their business with stony single-mindedness, inert to whatever spectacle was on display in the heavens. To them, the task at hand was their current destiny; it cannot be delayed, postponed for a few seconds.
And so this huge swirling Tuesday evening sky was deprived of its entire meaning. It lost its destiny and disappeared into the inky indifferent blackness of night. For it was not there for the rains, not for the depression or climate change. It was just another Tuesday evening sky, like so many ‘just another’ things that life is cluttered with. You don’t see their purpose because their purpose is not any visible event, change or requirement. It is not obvious why these ‘just another’ things are here, these murky yet beautiful Tuesday evening skies, the rainbow, the clear full moon. It is not obvious, because their purpose is you.
All the world’s a stage, and when you are tired of acting, you are sometimes allowed to be the spectator while the creator of the stage arranges entertainment. It’s a pity you cannot recognize it any more for what it is, let alone appreciate it.
And they remain just another thing.