It is a wonderful evening to write a few words of thoughts and even praises, although I do not think my mind quite capable of the task. It is common at the end of a finespun weekend to attempt to chronicle the threads that led one to where one now so at peace sits and in glory hums. Yet sometimes the process of telling over one’s own story with all the subtlety of snapping scissors can tend to detract from the beauty of the whole. So why not let my mind sit in graven anticipation of homeward calling, no matter how far from now that time may be. Why not says he? And so let me leap up and carefully procure a candle never used and prepare the wick for the flame. In silence I wait and in silence I muse over one thing over and over. And occasionally might I in silence ponder of that far off land and of the name that gives me a shiver and sets a spark in my frame. So why not let my heart dwell in eager imagination of homeward sailing, no matter how far from now that time may be. Why not says he?