Enraptured, I watch while a tiny spark dances upon my window pane. An ethereal courier, a messenger emerging from the void of darkness. In nights now past and tonight again it dances, pirouettes, forming arcs and lines upon the gla**. Arcs and lines, meaningless runes in the beginning; but of their composite, as blades of gra** form a meadow, the beginning of an image forms before my mind's eye. An image with the dawning in her hair and the seas in her eyes.