This isn't Nature. It's a copy of an image. An outline of perception. The light I saw enveloping these plants like a dew can't really be reproduced. Not like I can mimeograph a lamp or a doorknob. Man-made things conform to man-made mimicry. Not so God's handiwork. It's like a magician's trick that can't be photographed. The canopy of stars that appears  once you are outside the cities has a hyper reality that exists above our heads and beyond our normal sensory comprehension. It's transcendent. It's the natural state of things but our modern lives place a shroud over it. We are dazzled by this thing we can't explain or account for. Those who call it God are too easily satisfied. Those who try to reduce its splendor entirely through the keyhole of science lack a certain imagination. The only reliable narrator is our senses. For that piercing moment you look up and you are united with every other soul across history.