There will be wonder. Many will come and fall and rise again with chins held high. Quietly the world turns. Thought will follow them and become them. What of the fearful ones who wait in the corners and along the edges? Who will come for them? Will they spend eternity waiting to catch a moment that became another and another too soon? The conscious cosmic mutt scratches at the door of unknown certainties, howls at a moon soaked in spirit, dripping its silver sweat onto earth.