Strangers that whisper good nite to each other, unknowing of what dreams shall await them both.  Perhaps there exists a realm wherein we haven’t to seek for it is sought and shaped into our reality, our dreams.  Perhaps there is a balance between us sentient, dreaming beings, the idealized contours of sculpted marble hands.  Perhaps, yes, perhaps, we will awake to a reality far closer to that which we had always hoped for, the triangulated forces that bear witness to a cosmic wish.  The undying prayers of a silent statue.