There is a nonchalance in the air of creativity. Ambiguity plays a vital part. Destruction in the dust of long lost memories and reticent goals. Integrity welling up in pools of deep sapphire. The dam, though cracked, is fortified and strong. Hands are reaching from the void. They scrape the blackened heavens, push the stars aside; they strike the sparkling orbs inside the eye. Beneath the waves and sullen wet horizon, a striking birth is moving a blessing in the air. The light that ruptures water into rolling waves, ascends, a celestial hemorrhage of starlight and dazzle. A warm promise is born, kissing heaven’s darkly tufted clouds, marrying life to exposition, and constant sharing of insights.