The arms of the moon

Heaven is often that place to call when the earth does not respond to us. We seek help in the immensities when we have no way. Does the unknown things answer about what we do not know? What does heaven have? With so little that it has and the same as always we look at it. Perhaps it is only a blue color that we see, with whites that slide and fade. We look at it as we do not look at other things, as if it were the last time we could see it, or as if we had never seen it.

Heaven is what we were, what we are and what we will be ours, immutable to the eyes, it transports us in time. No moment is inopportune to look at the sky, but only when the light goes out and the joy goes away, only when loneliness arrives and the sun has already fallen, is when we ask properly. The darkness is dressed in dressings and the greatest of them consoles us for the loss of the day, the fear of life and the cold of consciousness.

I don't know if the moon is dead.

Moon of January 21, 2019, Spain 21:24