.

Signs
There always are meaningful signs in the sky, upon the waters and land,
signs I cannot read them all, as I wish.

I don't know where's the beginning or the end, nobody knows...
But I know I split the time in half: what has been before and what is gonna come after me.
Therefore, I am important too. That's what the sky is telling me.
At twelve o'clock, at noon, our days pass through the vaults of time under the highest sun.
"The time is a convention only", I was told.
One day I was crossing through other kind of vaults, my noon left far behind. This time of mine... is it a convention, too?
A dream... like a carefully crafted tapestry, made of the same things which vanish again in the darkness we came from... like a wonder, made of non-visible, persistent matter.
...the Moon only replies to me, making the world bright at night, as the Sun is somewhere far away...and maybe down on its wandering path, it's gonna hit some star and I'll never understand what this wing-ding would be about.
Neither should I.

Calin Niculae, astro-photo-poetic essay, 2001