There is a fresh-as-the-first-spring-morning feeling that comes with a nightfall then, that we may come upon the starlight without the veil of refusal or acceptance, without anger or regret, without confusion or fatigue, without the wisdom of experience, to be wary; a sight so free and open that the breathtaking moment takes over; the frame of identity seems silly and self-defeating, a way of not seeing what is there, clear as the light and the darkness, to be seen; a freedom savage without violence, where an embrace by the heart and by the mind, will never reach the veil-of-clouds delusion, and loss, of misgiving.