It is more than ironic that I ask the reader to consider for a moment the greediness of the writer who wants more than you ears who wants all of your attention more than your heart he'll take your soul if you let him he beckons you to follow the suggestions on the page to whisper his words and make a wish perhaps to speak a spell of talk and changing of a lot of things really that take their places by the light of the moon I am thinking of northern lights that shimmer green and glimmer long after in the range of blue and shift in Winter to hues subtler still when you are a writer you seldom ask where your words will take your reader will he be still or will his spirits quicken and his limbs shake to the thrill of the touch of paper in his fingers or will he be lost in your trill which dances like the Aurora Borealis that takes its shape when some combination of God and Van Allen belts makes the solar wind visible g...