It is all a matter of vision.

The barest hint of a smile touches the Wavecalled woman's mouth as she sits within her shrine, her eyes distant.

Even here in shadows and darkness, there is light and beauty. In stillness, there is movement. In silence, there is music.

The pool before her is completely still, and in the dark waters are reflected the brilliant stars of the heavens. The honeyed breeze of summer whispers briefly through the shrine, setting the candle flames dancing, but the waters remain serene.

I am the wind upon the water, the smoke and the flame, the sun and moon and stars. I am the twilight that is neither day nor night.

In the reflecting pool, a silver and gold streak falls from the sky, and the slender crescent of a new moon rises.

In this moment are all the possibilities of the infinite. From past to present, from present unto eternity. So many futures, a pattern of darkness and light woven from chaos.

There has always been a Watcher. There will always be a Watcher.

From the deepest recesses of the mind, I can see all the world.

It is all a matter of vision.