Traveling at high speeds, the lights weave through trees and bushes, not caring, only looking.
   The young boy, not caring, only resting, dreaming dreams of pure childish thoughts.  Not 
       knowing, only dreaming.
Closer, the lights race, searching, only searching.  The lights climb higher, higher, to look, 
       to search, to find.
   The boy tumbles and turns in his sleep, trying to find something that cannot be found.  
       Searching, Searching.
The lights go faster.  Searching, Searching.
   The boy wakes.
The lights stop.
   The boy turns and gets up.  Not knowing what he is doing he opens a window then crawls back
       into bed.  
Sealing his future. The lights move, going faster, faster.  Knowing where to go, knowing what
       to do, just knowing.  
   They arrive at the house.  The dark, gothic, house.  They move around as if confirming their 
       objective. 
The boy turns in his sleep, not knowing, only dreaming. The lights shoot upward, upward, then 
       stop.  
   The lights slowly move toward the sleeping boy, whispering tiny whispers.  ³Is he the one?  
       Is he the one?²
Moving around him, silent.
   ³Is he the one?²
The lights stop.  They surround the young boy, circle him.  They move faster and faster around him, 
       faster and faster.  
   The boy tosses and turns, as if in a nightmare, then is still.

The lights slow down and then come to a complete stop.  The boy is still, not moving, not breathing.  
   The lights leave, the boy is still.
When the lights leave, all life leaves with it.
   The mysterious lights speed away, faster and faster, not caring, only looking.
		-Garret Schneider