It isn't as easy as one might expect to live out one's days and not often neglect the calming release of observing the sky (It does it, I know, but I don't know why) With my gaze sloping downward in a cautionary way watching fearful memories in rapid decay. I don't trip over things while I'm looking down but I miss a bright light streaking quietly ‘round. My eyes are not looking, therefore I don't see my attention diverted, looking only at me. The light given off in the moments I missed spread out overhead and gently kissed the eyes of those looking, but left residue enough for my rising it definitely knew I would lift up my gaze one day.