There are no words for the sky tonight. Its grandeur is not meant to be named, its shifting light too infinite for mortal tongues.
The car moves through the quiet wilderness. The storm is an elegy, a requiem for something too vast to be mourned.
The driver doesn’t search for shelter, but a ephemeral moment of harmony between their fragile existence and the boundless unknown above them. And though the road stretches, they feel it, if only for a breath, that they are part of the song the sky is singing.