It’s as though the sky is shrouded by a great black cloak, patterned with the images of clouds and night birds. And some precocious child of the heavens ran across the sky, poking little pinpricks into the cloak of darkness so the light from the other side leaks through, filling that shadow with little points of brightness. Or perhaps they’re giant balls of gas burning billions of miles away. What do we know? We are ephemeral beings, all of us, destined to look up at the sky and wonder, and marvel, and question till the end of time.