My Star.

I sleep under a meter square skylight and most evening gaze up at the night sky in those moments before dreamtime. In autumn and winter it’s often clear and I can see many stars. Other times it’s a fast moving storm or just a cloudy blanket. But through all these changes one star remain bright and steadfast. I’m not sure which one, maybe the North Star, which isn’t of course Mothermouse’s cousin’s local pub of the same name in Royston. I sometimes wonder if it’s my mother’s star watching over me, or my angel’s star seeing me to sleep and keeping me safe. For sure though it’s my constant reassuring companion. In fact I sometimes wonder if it might be the Bethlehem star that has inexplicably moved to north England, hovering above me as a sign of the second coming. That would be nice. Note to self: start writing a gospel. OK there are pros and cons but on the whole, without taking my person desire to stay alive into account, it would be a good thing for the world. And lets face it the Middle East wasn’t the best of choices first time round. No the safe and steady north of England is a far better bet. Must ring round a few friends and organise a get together. But sadly all this is a thing of the past. I’m not Jesus 2, the sequel, I’ve not got an angel looking over me and it isn’t my mother in heaven. It is in fact the reflection of the stand by light on my hi-fi. Now that is a pisser.