Go quietly among the stars, the hills, along the edge of night. Closed and quiet unborn thoughts lay sleeping, wet with dew. Softly, softly the light comes pale to the grass. Thoughts made translucent and ethereal in the warming air rise unseen in the mist, surrounding the world with it's radiant aura. I sometimes think my days go too quietly, not in the sense of stirring sleep, clanging lids and band-aids, but in the broad sense where great men change lives, heal and help, and carry mankind forward to the next generation. But I am convinced that every soul that breathes leaves the global envelope changed. I pray to somehow contribute to the pinpricks of light in the vast universe where I have loved and slept and labored. If the Great Unseen can sway heavens and earth beyond our reach, then I too unseen and unfelt, will change the world as surely as morning comes again.