When it called the moon scampered behind the blanket of the sky, the earth shook off the dusty dull, and I raised my throat upward to the breeze. In the midst of this apocalypse we were rising up to meet the tidal wave of the shuddering ocean. It looked as though the blood would wash out the water, to strangle the father the son and the daughter. Wait Wait! What is more, what is seeing but believing in the images of things? Things, colors, static, the faceless background noise of the mind. The minds of some unraveled beyond and found redemption there. They sang a song, a strange song without a word and all we heard was a humming hiss. I rose up from the grass and deposited this like many lovely shadows falling all around without a sound. I thought they would injure all they touched but instead they were gentle and softer and hushed.