It is night time – and the mind is running hay-wire; as I am tired and drowsy browsing the thoughts for anything of worth. But save me. For none come to mind on this fine, quiet evening. Perhaps, it is supreme when the brain goes silent – even for a moment or two. When the breathing becomes still – like that of a meandering stream – restless, yet productive in its seductive slither. For as the snake wheels amongst the floor, I too crawl forward in the brush – instead into the lush rush of the summer crush.