It is in the dark of night.....that called...witching hour...it leans towards the day to come...there is stillness...and silence...and a depth to both....not found in the light of day....the darkness hides what the eyes could follow.....yet what is hidden in the mind...or that which you would turn from....rises....wishing in it's way to give rise to vision...or to be heard....the silence is shouting...the mind is streaming....the visuals...clear colorful clarity.....yet the wish....is still....to turn away....like the child's toy...of the jack in the box...let me put it back....shove the springing rising way back into the darkness of that opening...folding the lid down....back...back...back......locking it away....held....again....for what ever moment....causes you to twist the tune....for it to spring upon you once more....the silence....that comes...again....the noise it stops...and what ever is let loose....just waits....it moves and weaves...in the recoil....and waits....