I gaze at the sky each morning and see a master painting. The bottom of the painting is framed by the dark, irregular forms of tree tops on a close horizon. The other three sides of the picture are framed by infinity.
The background is a black, blue, grey that seems nearly impossible to recreate. The main character is a crescent moon; part brightly shining and another part is seen as if behind a veil. The supporting characters are stars and planets. Bright spots of brilliance that come in many sizes and a variety of brightness.
All of this makes a wonderful painting but it becomes a masterwork when the shooting star appears. It arrives out of nowhere and paints it's bright linear glow in just the right spot. Then, as quick as it appears, it disappears.
It is a brief masterwork for the eye but the vision stays in the mind forever.
The background is a black, blue, grey that seems nearly impossible to recreate. The main character is a crescent moon; part brightly shining and another part is seen as if behind a veil. The supporting characters are stars and planets. Bright spots of brilliance that come in many sizes and a variety of brightness.
All of this makes a wonderful painting but it becomes a masterwork when the shooting star appears. It arrives out of nowhere and paints it's bright linear glow in just the right spot. Then, as quick as it appears, it disappears.
It is a brief masterwork for the eye but the vision stays in the mind forever.
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