And it was upon this special night when our hero looked up.
Or was it down? Hard to tell when one is in a cave.
Was he looking up at the moon, or down at the moon's reflection?
For now, let us say our hero looked out.
At first he did not see, not while there was so much noise still in his ear.
The waters lapping on the stone walls, the stalactites crying into the pool below, or the winds from without moaning their way through the channels within.
But then, as if all at once, all sound ceased.
Not even his own air was heard.
One held breath, and it was done. Or had it started?
Regardless, only a single sound was heard:
One gentle beat of the universe.
The one inside of him, inside of us.
The first sound we learn to live with.
His heart, and the eternal pulse, were in sync.
And the moon, no longer a moon, was no longer shining, it was seeing.
A lidless eye. An observer. A witness.
Witness to a breathless hero.
He looked down at infinity.
Or was infinity looking up at him?
Hard to tell.
We would ask him, but they're still staring in and out.
And a moment in eternity, is still an eternity ...
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