It is one crisp Fall night; it's All Hallow's Eve. A break from the clouds reveals a crescent moon as trick-or-treaters go about the evening waning light collecting candy. Somewhere around the world, it is November 1st. The sun is beginning to rise as a sudden onslaught of cool crisp vapors seep below treegroves.

Visibility ceases to exist.

Outside on a shores of Dover, a figure stands masked by the oceans fury, the cliffs ominous beauty, and a sparrow's graceful flight into the forrbidden terror.

Silence.

But I am not there; that is an alternate reality, a dream. Distant and dreaming, I sit inside my room; wondering. A backdrop of sound resonance throughout a silent and contemplative place. Situated inside my room is a wooden desk, a a rough-and-ready bed (also wooden) and a strong red-metallic bicycle. It symbolizes my independence, strength, and perspective. The bed represents a "comfort zone." A comfort zone I seek to avoid. "Get out, see the world, listen to your heart" I feel myself saying day after day. My desk, littered with school supplies and memoribia, is my imagination.

Outside.

A siren rings a sense of alarm. Cars exhaust engines combust and people congregate.

A large oak tree with deep roots stems from underground; growing from outside in and inside out. (A play on words, nice pun!). I am the tree. I listen to the song "In the Light" and think: do I "dispise my behavior," do I "find the Light on my own?" I live by this song (and several others). I take everything in. A leaf might fall from the tree's branch or leaves might dance in the wind; I watch, transfixed.