I want to know something more of history, identity, and meaning than the maps the humans make and seem to worship. So I ask the sky, the moon. “What are we?” I ask the trees, the wasp people. “What is true sense of all that has passed?” I ask the Sun. “What is light?” I ask children (who are the Sun’s answers). “Do you remember The Before?”

I will not say the moon does not speak, but neither is the sky mute, though it will not answer you in words. There is a language inside silence. In order to pursue the ancient questions, it is this, we must listen for, and to.