There once was a boy named ZENITH. He was not like the other children. He saw things differently, spoke differently, ate different foods, dressed in different clothes.
His mother, a daughter of the Earth, was the most beautiful woman in the world and imbued with beauty everything she touched. His father, a son of a new universe, spun worlds out of words and tantalized people with his stories of times long past and epics yet to come. So ZENITH was very different. Even his teacher, Mrs. Appleberry, knew it and told his mother, “Be prepared. He is not like the other children. He will do things differently, you’ll see.”
Usually, when a child is different, the other children pick on him. Or at least that is what they do on TV. But not for ZENITH. Instead, he shared his insight with the other youngsters, he helped them, he inspired them. When they played games, he made certain everyone could play. He knew that winning was more pronounced when everyone was included and everyone won. The concept of winners and losers, where one must prevail over his peers to be recognized as being special was alien to him. So Zenith changed the rules, he found what everyone was good at, encouraged the other children on the playground to be decent to their peers, to ones less fortunate, and to make up games that would challenge everyone to win. And his peers loved it. Everyone would join in and continue the games from recess to recess.
But things changed. The shadows grew longer and stronger. A spell of separation swept the land. Mothers and Fathers stopped listening, turned their backs to each other and stopped playing together. Zenith’s parents were similarly effected. His mother went into a deep cave, hiding her ability. His father flew away and his stories grew remote and silent and were forgotten. Quiet men in their dark suits came and watched him carefully. They recorded dark movies about ZENITH and made devious, secret plans.
A kindly teacher was afraid. She knew something wasn’t right. She whispered her fears to ZENITH’S mother, who spirited ZENITH away to the mountain top and hid him in even deeper in the caves. She told him to hide his difference, to become invisible, and to go unseen. She told him she covered him, and he was protected, but to not make as much of a difference so as not to gain as much attention. She told him, the times are dark. The night time comes and there are scary things that make strange sounds in the night. Better to go to sleep and wait for dawn.
But ZENITH did not sleep. Every night while his mother slept, he sneaked out of the cave for adventure. He studied the world as it was in the night, and all the creatures who called out in the darkness, who talked to one another in their own tongues, as children might play with one another on the playground.
And ZENITH understood them was not afraid. He listened for their uniqueness and knew everything had it’s place.
He climbed to the top of the mountain, and looked up into the night sky and you know what he saw? A million stars. Each one of them unique in their own right, each one of them burning in multiple colors and shouting in their own language. ZENITH saw himself in each of those stars. Myriad aspects of himself reflected in the brilliance of those stars. Some close, some far, some not stars at all but new galaxies gleaming with a million more stars inside their scintillating glow.
And ZENITH knew what he must do. What he must be, like the night time sky, the space of what others thought of as being scary. He must show others how to also be UNLIMITED. To be not only unique and different in their own way, but also to be like the night time sky. A symphony of sound and color, of radiance, of life everlasting.
ZENITH knew each of us has a million stars inside of us, and that we are like galaxies. That we are unlimited in our potential to create, to learn, to figure out problems, to help people, to share and to love.
He came down from the mountain…and you know what he did?