I gaze into
the still, starry sky
my
breathing caught and frozen
in the
biting cold of the taciturn night
that
presses around me like a glittering,
timeless
cloak of uncertainty.
The silver
stars seem to appear one by one
like shy creatures
creeping from the shadows
of a dark
forest. They are travellers in time,
but like
pilgrims to a holy shrine,
they leave
their mark, their history,
their
secret wisdom, their consciousness
seeping
into the fabric of creation,
spilling
into our loneliness like birds
to a
solitary tree, whose branches
like great,
strong arms
holding up the universe,
stretch
into the vastness of eternity.
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