The light creates a somber moment, a speculative time. Where the grass speaks to the wind as it brushes by on its way to sway the wind chimes that hang from the corner roof of the terrace. Creating waves of sound that travel back and forth, and upward blending with the conversations held between Earth and Sky. A moment of reflection, introspection, as Mercury retrogrades allowing one to catch their breath before stepping into a New Year. And just like that tears fall softly from the clouds onto my paper, smearing the messages. I watch the ink cry onto the floor releasing the energy into another form of expression, that is fluid, free from scripture.