The last half hour of the twentieth century saw the ebb and flow of life and time, of laughter and tears.
And something found its way inside, to where no man goes and no creature lives.
Like the sparks that fly up, pop and are gone, from a bonfire on a beach tended by stars.
They remind that energy changes forms, that nothing is lost, not really.
A child holds an umbrella. Somewhere, a woman dips her hand into the sand.
The world turns, the sky breaks.
I wonder, what next?
