The show

Where the Heavens and Earth Meet

As I lie back on the warm, solid basalt, dark as the night sky, I affix my gaze upon the stage in front of me. While I await the beginning of the show, I reflect upon the surface on which I lie. From its hot volcanic origins to its shaving by glacial ice, the stories it could tell.

The mosquitoes have gone quiet, the show is about to begin. Thankfully the great lunar spotlight of the night is new, so no light does it cast. The dark gray curtain of clouds are pulled back, exposing stars against the backdrop of the void that is space.

They shine so brightly, appearing blue and white. Shining as they have for eons. After gazing out into the vastness, for what seems like an eternity, the curtain is drawn once again as Act One comes to an end.

A loon cries out, breaking the silence of the night, alerting that Intermission has begun.

Time slows as the trees, usually vibrant and colorful in the day light, have blended into the dark grays and blacks of the night.

An unknown creature softly breaks the stillness of the night with a rhythmic disturbance of leaf litter. The darkness hiding them from all but the most adapted of predators while on their journey of survival.

A quick splash and thrash along the lakeshore focuses attention back to the stage as the dark grey curtain is drawn back once again and Act Two begins.

A very subtle green glint appears upon the stage. Slowly it grows into a majestic, transparent ribbon dancing across the sky, as a second one joins in to grace the scene. From backstage a reddish-orange ribbon appears, joining the other two as their dance unfolds. They dance until they cannot dance anymore, leaving as gracefully as they arrived.

As I lay upon the basalt now chilled by the night air, I gaze upon the emptiness that lies before me. Empty yet so full. The stars shine as they always have, down onto the now cold, solid basalt, dark as the night sky.

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