Blue light, still as it makes everything still. The bookshelves, the mirrors which are reflecting nothing except the blue light shining off the sheets of the bed. That is nothing to the mind, something to reality because there is no emptiness in the universe. Even in the far reaches of space between the solar systems there is something slowing down the spacecraft hurtling through the emptiness past the birthplaces of the comets, past the dust of the planets that never got to be! I cannot see those tiny worlds because even when I stand under the clear desert sky I cannot see them. I wouldn’t call them invisible because that darkness is not like the darkness of a cave, but a lit darkness like that of my room.