I do some of my best writing at night. When the lights are out and the eyes are closed. Some of the best writing, done without paper. It is the middle of the night, that is when the brain awakens and the body crashes, when they are at odds with each other. Ah! The bones at rest while the mind travels the hills and valleys of time, past present and future all jumbled together dancing around the corners of the night trying to make sense. When the stillness has its chance to breathe, when the darkness weighs, blanketing the pallet in the softness that caresses the tree and hugs the nest. Ah! the mind unencumbered by its earthly coil winding every way, into the valleys and hills of thought, making sense and nonsense of images and words manipulating each into the tapestry of the day, real and unreal melded together. And then the mind turns the image asunder as it approaches slumber, and the thoughts fold together into the darkness of night.