That night, the sun and the moon seemed to be just one. Like a perfect silhouette of ancestral worship. A calling gate to an endless universe, which most nights is forgotten in our negligible existence.
But that night, was like no other. While the body was cool, the soul was feeling warmth. The senses were awake, expectant to the predicted but still dreaming, still lost in the vast boundaries which escape our human vision. The darkness was bright, the day was night and the night was day.
There were no time to be lost, escape from the urban trap of light illusion was a must. Only within nature was possible to read the celestial signs upon us.
The motion could be felt straight away, the darkened moon started to tell us we were just trapped in a tiny world of shadows. Like a powerful dance of meaningful steps, the brightness was giving way to our own powerless reflection.
The beauty was not in the disappearing moon, in our light deterrent planet or even the scattered sunray lights. The beauty was in what the absence of light brought.
The intense white bluish rounded goddess soon was painted into a distant diffused red colour . It was like an innocent bride, losing the wedding dress and letting her lover shape the darkness with caress.
But it was not that which took away the breath of the poet. The magic of that night was not in the leading actors of such romantic scene. It was in the darkness, were suddenly was revealed a full sky of shining stars. Like a choir of distant voices, like an unknown sea unreachable to us. The beauty could not be described, but only felt in an instant of mystic connection with the universe. It was understood that night, that underlying any of our lives meaningful events there is always much more beyond us.We can only imagine, only dream about those worlds of infinite magnitude. The more we imagine, the more we dream, the closer they become, and one day we might feel that reality is not only what we see or feel but what we belong to, not to the seas and lands, but to the stars.