A love poem for Fv510 Rege.
There is sphere and a church.
In the evening there are lights, columns of lights.
The church has eyes.
There is a tower, there is a hill. The church is on the hill.
There are clouds, they rise over the hill, behind the church.
Sometimes fog hides the church.
In the evening the church is a silhouette, a triangle of dark against the light.
On the horizon there is a sphere. It is white.
When the sun shines, it is a miniature planet. It shines.
In the evening it fades into the sky.
In the evening it is dark against the sky, an eclipse of the setting sun.
In fog it disappears.
In blue evenings it turns blue.
In the night there is no sphere, only darkness.
The landscape is flat.
There is grass besides the road.
There are fields with sheep.
Sometimes signs appear beside the road.
They have their messages hidden. They look the other way.
There are sheep.
The sheep look at the signs. They read the signs.
They don't tell us what they say.
There is a camera.
It watches the hill.
It watches the church.
It watches the sphere. It sees the horizon.
There are farmhouses.
You can see the church through their driveways.
The church is white. The tower is white.
There is a parking lot and a graveyard.
The graveyard is full, the parking lot is empty.
There is snow in the fields and water.
During the day the light changes. White spots appear and disappear.
The field is silent but it is not static.
It is not passive, it has a message.
We walk into the fields.
We walk up the hill on narrow roads, through hedges and green fields.
The sphere comes closer, it is white, it is high.
The road splits, but we can't reach the sphere.
Someone has been here in winter, when the sphere was grey and the landscape was gray.
You could see the stones, the old stones.
In summer the sphere shines like a small sun, like a small planet.
Like Venus. It radiates.
The sphere knows the weather, knows the rain.
So much to see in one picture from a random camera.
So much to explore, so much to discover.
The world is endless.
