Last night I dreamed about stories of the stars. The sky and the lake were two mirrors. Nothing in themselves. Black holes. Together they spoke about all of being. The stars, the moon, the city lights and the fireflies.
The stars twinkle behind a cloudy night sky.
This is the truth of the stars. Even in sadness, nay even in doubt, the truth, infinity, is concealed just beneath the shadows.
“The stars twinkle, behind a cloudy night sky.”