We’re letting the wind in tonight. That chill ocean wind that has traveled, as if on a mission, across the great Atlantic to get to where we are. We’re letting the stars in tonight. We’re opening the windows and letting their light shine down on us; that light that has been seen by all living creatures near us in our galaxy. We’re letting the wind and the stars in tonight, and with them the immensity of it all. Oh how we breathe air all the time, 7 billion people breathing in once every fourth second, oh how much air there must be on this Earth, yet how small this Earth is compared to the vastness that is the Universe. And we look at each other, and we nod, and we don’t say a thing, for amongst all these creatures we two are created as one, and we communicate without the spoken word, we just look and understand, look and know that we are not alone, that somewhere out there, there are others like us. Creatures dreaming of the sky they see above them. That is the great similarity from here to the Moon and beyond: the starlit sky. Oh to be without it. To be on a planet run wild, lost from its solar system; its galaxy. To be still alive and dreaming, but seeing nothing, nothing at all. What would life out there be like? What wicked darkness reigns in such places? The first question: is there any such thing as eternal nothingness? Can it keep you trapped? Oh how we long for answers and how ill-equipped we are to answer them, even with our eyes, our understanding of each other we only know so much. We only know of the earthly delights; of the twosomeness. We only know what we have seen and heard. And we feel joy as well as despair that we should have been spared the knowledge of the eternal nothingness; of what comes with a darkness like that; what twisted ways mankind might act when given no light at all. Might mankind turn against itself? Seeing each other not as brothers and sisters but as enemies to the little light that might someday find its way into the eyes of the mortal? Might mankind be so confused, so enwrapped in its own quest of finding the border between dreams and reality, that it could harm mankind? If darkness prevails, and there is no hope of ever seeing the blink of an eye again, might mankind end up so crazy from the lack of light that mankind might kill mankind? Is that the true power of the light; the power to keep the most evolved of the Earth’s species alive and loving and well? And we would nod; we would look at each other and nod and fear the darkness between the lights on the sky above us, if it wasn’t for our shared knowledge that it takes far less for mankind to kill mankind; that it only takes an argument, and sometimes not even that, for mankind to kill mankind; that it only takes a weapon, and sometimes not even that, for mankind to kill mankind; that it only takes mankind for mankind to kill mankind. And suddenly the dark skies above seem not so frightening, seem instead almost forgiving – hopeful. The dark skies above seem like an opportunity, an area of infinite magnitude where a place made for the peaceful must be locatable. The Earth is uninhabitable now mankind has been everywhere and forced its system on everyone. The Earth is uninhabitable now mankind is no longer continuing the work of art that is nature, but only selling it and destroying it. The Earth is uninhabitable now mankind is tearing it apart, piece by piece, limb by limb. The Earth is uninhabitable now mankind is killing mankind is killing mankind is killing Earth. The Earth is uninhabitable now mankind has made it so. And we look at each other and we dream and we sigh, for our dreams are only that: dreams. And we kiss, and in our kiss we share the hope for the Earth, for the dreamers, for the remains of humanity – for great and powerful parts of mankind are no longer humane. And in our kiss we make a promise: to be the best we can be; to live the fullest lives we can. And in our kiss we twist and turn the world and want to turn mankind into kind-man. And in our kiss potential arises and flows around the room, and it seeps through our open window, traveling out where the air and light came in.