Empty days, spotted nights of countless camphor drops or milky dew on a silent web of gossamer black. The cold night is home to so much fire -- a billion suns! too much light to belong to those depths of endless black. How could all those distant daylight worlds, taken together, sum to such a lonely, empty black? Perhaps their days are empty too all glimmer with no shine; sleeping midnight jellyfish, or white glowbugs trapped in a vast amber turned black.