In passing through the wayward wood, cloaked by the branches that form the cathedral of my way, I stopped and stooped to spy a coin illuminated by an errant beam of lunar essence that by might of effort or divine persuading survived its vast journey through expanse, clouded sky, and the arms of my wooded sentinels to alight my mind. Touching not the coin for fear of disturbing such a delicate cantation I perceived the face of the coin as the face of one so enthralled with that upon which he perceives as to enkindle my own desire. Lifting head and tracing beam I could but perceive at first the entry point of that sole beam I admired. It seemed I sat and strained upon my vaulted dome not but a moment longer than it took to become accustomed to my new position amidst this murky trail when at the perceivable edge of hearing I made out the faint but increasing sounds of a whispering rolling army establishing new orders among the sentinels of this wood. A sweet and warm breeze that approached with more fury of sound then substance which upon its departing left me with my own newly formed reflected beam of silver. Long there I sat understanding ever more of the nature of this light and the wonders it now afforded. Until at the last there were but two coins within the mud no longer traveling along this wayward path fixed until the dawn.