Under Saturn you melt, under Saturn you rise again...

Today I saw Saturn in the night sky, even though my eyes were hunting for the Moon. Most people panicked. I didn't...

Do not panic. It's not an exaggeration. The Saturn was not a replacement to the Moon, just a benevolent companion. It resided right beside the Moon, gleaming and glistening, filling the night sky with vast expanse. It overshadowed half the night sky with its scintillating lustre, blinding the stars, and the Moon. However, the fact that people panicked is not an understatement.

Half of the population believed that doomsday was coming; that end of the Earth was near. And the half others struggled to become saved in the artificial pursuits of life; fake smiles and eyes bleeding with tears.


Me?


I was not panicked. Probably the only person on Earth who was not. Knowing each day after waking up that this day could be your last, believing that you'll die today or another day, things like these don't seem to scare you much. For me, the slowly approaching planet was just one of many obstacles that I face every day. Another something to weep over...

So I continued living my life, watching people run in circles around me, trying to escape their doom...but the problem is, there is no way to escape an entire planet. "How can you be so calm?!" they shouted around me. "The world is ending!!!"

"My world is always ending," I usually replied.

And I almost began to feel love for the planet. The planet that approached our planet right by night. I thought maybe the rising ocean currents flooding the world, were a thing of beauty. Maybe the melting ice and the shifting of the planet as the gravity tugged at it would be like a transformation in itself. Maybe the Big Splash would cause the birth of a new Moon. Maybe the new Moon would be more beautiful than the old one, without scars; maybe it would replace the old one, and continue to thrive until a new life is born out of stardust. I couldn't unsee the future, but I was sad that I wouldn't be able to witness the future of my dreams in reality. I found myself out on my roof each night, hugging my knees close to my chest and staring at the great mass in the sky, my eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. (or was it fear?)

It glowed purple, white and rusty, sometimes with shimmering pinks, hues of grey and a hint of brown. The rings continued to circle around it as usual, and if I squinted at it a little, I could begin to make out asteroids flying past the Earth. The planet seemed so large, and gentle, and beautiful. It was hard to imagine it ploughing into this world, destroying ages and ages of technology, history and human life. it was almost enough to make you sad. Almost, I found myself turning away from humans during this time. It was too painful to know that those frightened eyes you looked into would soon be specks of stardust, floating through the universe. Or worse, they would disappear. Become Dark Matter: mysteries lost forever in the infinite void of the universe. But I thought it was beautiful too.

My parents, always thinking of the most optimistic approach, decided that we should live normal lives until we were struck down by the giant impact. I, of course, found it a bit strange to take that path. I was not personally afraid of the impact, but to sit there in the face of your death and live each day like it's your last seems...

courageous, I suppose.

Despite their goal to live normally, I often found myself on the roof, staring at my beautiful murderer.

The planet's rings rotated slowly as it crept down upon the Earth: merely a small rock in its path to destroy. Even normal gravity was beginning to feel a pull as the mass neared, and I had the strange sensation of floating a millimetre above the ground. Hugging my knees tighter, I stared into the planet, memorizing every dip, every crater and every curve in its surface.

The surface that would destroy me!

Most of the time, from my spot on the roof, I could hear the thumping music from the parties of desperate teens insistent on getting the most out of their meaningless lives. Tonight, though, I heard nothing besides the soft cooing of sleepy birds in the trees, and sad, soft music drifting from our old neighbour's bungalow.

The music would usually annoy me: the sappy kind of love songs that elderly people like to listen too...but tonight, it seemed strangely appropriate.

Ironic even.

We were being chased by a great destroyer, who would not think for a moment about crushing our small planet into dust, and yet, we still had the hope to listen to love songs.

I leaned back until I was laying. The air was crisp and cold around me, and I could feel the wind rippling through my T-shirt. But my eyes were glued to the planet, taking up the entire sky. Curiosity? Courage? I don't know. I stared up at it: as small as an ant, outstretched on my roof. Most of the stars were extinguished by the impending light. But I raised my shaky hand to the sky and began to count the stars. A few days ago, it would have been impossible to number the fire in the sky. But now...I could count exactly FOUR.

I counted them. And I counted them again. Over and over, as if the fact that there were still four stars in the sky would put a halt to the impending disaster that was coming for all of us.

I sighed deeply, breathing the air that I had become so used to. Living each day as if you were dying. The never-ending circle of life. Ridden with anxiety, I had learned to find beauty in the sadness.

And I was in a position where I could not deny the fact that Saturn was indeed beautiful.

How rare and beautiful it is to even exist!