Static
The world is dark around me. Not a light to be seen. But the some appear! A small burst of light, short lived but ingrained onto my retina. And then there are more. They skitter across the moving fabric, followed by (or does it happen simultaneously?) small pops that make the unaware jump.
But I do not jump. I know what they are. Although science can explain this, it cannot explain the beauty that I see. It's like watching a lightning storm from above.
And suddenly I wonder who is watching us when lightning momentarily lights the sky to midday brightness. Are we a moving fabric under someone's control?
It doesn't matter. I just sit and watch the static; infinitely more fun than the sort on the television. It becomes so strong and constant that it throws shadows around the room.
No, science cannot explain the mystic beauty of this static electrical lightning display.