The universe is full of mystery. That's one of the few thigns I remember from my youth, many millenia ago. Barely any of it has been explored, and even with all the time in the world, we'll never see it all. I'm used to knowing more than the others, so I am not a fan of it. But that's not the case here. The universe, even for all of its faults, is the most beautiful thing anyone will ever see.
The universe, though, is not the only thing I know that's brilliant but unreadable. Not so much of a thing, though, as a person. A hunter once set on killing me, a man with many vices and few virtues, a brother with more rivalries than friends. But all the hatred and conflict that shrouds his soul doesn't deter me from seeing his beauty.
He's beside me now. His hand is warm in mine, and his chin is resting on my shoulder. He doesn't speak. He just watches the stars. The moon illuminates his skin, and I can see all his scars for all they are. Things that hurt him in the past, but are nearly forgotten. Even now, though, he hurts. Not from the scars on his skin, but on his soul. Bullet holes, burns, stab wounds, sickness. But even a sick man can be perfect.
His stunning jade eyes are turned toward me now, and he's smiling through the pain nagging at his mind. He moves his hand from my own up to my back, and I rest against him, savoring every moment because I know it's worth savoring.
The universe may never be fully ours, but I have my own right here and now.