First the sun must spit its huge magnetic storms through the corridors until they collide with the gases of the planet. I am wide-eyed and full of shadows - alone in the moon creeping light. High in the silence the charts and graphs
of the universe are written in neon and green fluorescent lights 600 miles high. The aurora covers the entire sky
with shifting curtains of light, gleaming draperies of the gods waving in the celestial wind. They are the signatures,
the vocabulary of what the planets know but dare not tell though we all bear the solemn proof of their dancing fire.