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Everything takes on a bluish hue,
Or is it orange?
Clouds gather 'round their sun
Conveying it down.
Some things disappear
To be suddenly seen again;
Not dark enough for light.
Slowly the layers of color converge into one band:
      Darkest, deepest blue.
The clouds no longer need usher
So they scatter;
Winds blow the clouds
And swirl down to the trees.
Many lights appear:
Some small and far away,
Some large and close at hand.
The sounds of silence are heard
As trees sing and winds blow.
Several hours of such elapse
Until. . .
Barely audible there is a sound,
A low roar—
      Or is it absolute silence?
It grows louder as clouds gather 'round their sun
Conveying it up.
The roar grows, crescendos,
Yet I think I never really hear it.
That which disappeared
Is suddenly seen again.
Slowly the layers of color converge into one band:
      Lightest, palest blue.
And the roar of silence is replaced by the roar of day.

Songs of Time and Space Songs of Time and Space Cry