in relation to the latest recognition that my World and Space is vaster than it seems…
Skies are under, because above is outer space. Under skies, the lands are above, forming roofs over cavern complexes of subterranea. Likewise, the oceans and seas are above their beds, and what lies beneath remains underground to the fluidic spaces up there.
If one then dares to think on bravely, our realities when awake are but a surface world, whose river flows are hopes and ambitions that come and go. The skies are naturally our impossible imaginations of plausible cloud banks.
When we sleep, our dreams are the winding chthonic caverns down, downward, that don't have to make sense or order in the light of day, and the stars and moon of night.
But when venturing out into space, permutations of variations in the unknown will go on and on ever. Within these lie all the worlds of stories that can never be finished in the re-tellings.
You helped me to learn a new word—‘chthonic’. Love it