Umbria, Summer 2020
In a late summer night, lying on a freshly cut wheat field that represents the accumulation of experiences and certainties over the course of lifetime, I have the hands curled behind my head, a straw between the teeth and my bare feet on what I perceive as the edge of an infinite ocean that silently speaks for the things that we yet do not know but that perhaps someone, in a thousand years or millions of light years away, will begin to discover.
I succumb to the realization that I can’t even try to imagine but only perhaps vaguely perceive, that this ultimate but familiar feeling of belonging is bridging the blurry image of a pink and green nebula, millions of light years away which veils the colorful and undisturbed life of a civilization completely different from our own.
The notion of this connection and immensity complimented by the intrinsic feeling that I seem to barely touch with the tip of my hand the cosmos, pause both my soul and breath. My heart beats slower now but my mind expands and streams across the expanse so quickly that I fear it might get lost and never return.
The ground feels cold now as three shooting stars spill quickly across the night leaving behind three thin golden stripes that silently dissipate into the darkness.