It doesn’t do justice
The sky from a city
Black with small blobs of light.
Even farther out, it’s simply scattered pricks of stars
The backdrop of the world resting
Blue with the silent sounds of night.
But go farther still,
Bumping down a dirt road marked with holes,
Come to a clearing and stop
To admire the true color of the universe.
It’s not black, or white, or blue.
It’s the silvery light when you can see the Milky Way.
It’s the starlight reflection of the Moon.
It’s the way the still shadows are resting—
Silver edges on every silhouette.
It only seems empty.
But the darkness is just pauses between starlight.

Ω