Stargazers II 

I was taught the sign language of heaven.
We had a map on which the dots and lines ran.
It was a map that turned on itself, concentric circles around an eye.

None of that knowledge would ever be written down in words; you could whisper, pass on, even count, but you couldn’t he could stare. It had to remain fluid like the movements that passed through it, and we were just that little eye, one minimal voice in that vast song.

I climbed the steps of the languages of heaven very slowly. In the beginning, they held my hand, and little by little, I continued alone. It was a ladder into the void; without protection, it was an infinite ladder incapable of finding an end. Every step has always been frightening, immersed in the highest beauty but so dense in its existence that it was impossible not to feel pain. Because we were, because we are, too small.
My every effort to learn would fail me; however, it brought to an understanding that none of us, at any time, would have been able to do so.

Yet the awareness of ineptitude was the price to pay for moving in the immense, more significant dimension ethereal and perfect that our mind can try to conceive. And even then, it won’t be enough.
All around the staircase on which I proceeded, the shining and infinite languages of the universe flowed.

Layers upon layers of tumultuous energies, of forces as light as silk capable of crossing immense spaces and times, carrying them with them light designs. Life in its driest essence shatters into millions of precious splinters and manifests itself in a game of Chinese boxes chasing each other relentlessly.

Everything connected with the one next to it and that, through the tiny eye placed in the centre, takes on different forms for this world. I want to convey the true meaning of the origin, but no word can enclose and retain that thin and imperceptible threshold between nothingness and the infinite.

Ph. Michela Pedranti

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