The telescope was sitting on top of the wooden radiator cover. We looked through the lens and out my wrought iron window, into the western side of the sky, at the stars and the darkness of space. I thought about the space being occupied by that which I could not see. I squinted and sighed. You must have felt my frustration because you smiled at me in that knowing way.
It was seven years ago on Sunday that you died. But that night, in my dream, you looked at me and said; the Stars do not know anything about Astronomy.
I will never truly understand this world, and its orbit in which we spin. Although, I do believe that we have every answer that we will ever need, inside.
