Silver skies tonight. It's a celestial banquet. A tinted glass table of deep navy spread before Orion's belt, set with a silver plate. Frosted wisps of linen drape across the console, reflecting the splendor of the gleaming dish. Tiny shards of scintillating crystal lie scattered where the gods have dashed their goblets. But the chairs are pushed back -- the revelers have passed on and the halls of space are empty -- all I hear is the echo of some ethereal song as it rumbles through the deep. Only Orion's stony bust remains -- frozen -- like the memories that haunt this place. So I too stand like chiseled marble, for fear it will all melt with my breath -- that the song will fade into silence. If only I could walk among the lofty columns of that corridor -- I would even hold the plate -- as long as I could listen to the music.  ¶ 12:35 AM