It is still; the very darkest time of the night. There is an overcast, blotting out all heavenly light.
It is quiet; and yet, if one were to listen intently, one would discern the slightest sounds of nature.....the movement of a tree limb in the wind, a far away moaning whistle of a phantom train, the barely audible mourning cry of a dove.
The human world is asleep in the dark.
The serpent glides effortlessly and purposefully and silently through the grass, pausing every now and then to take stock of its surroundings, its forked tongue flicking the air.
The serpent is a wondrous and fearful work of creation. It is silent, graceful, stealthy, deceitful, intoxicating and deadly.
Slowly it snakes to the dwelling. Souls are inside, asleep. In their sleep they dream of hopes and fears and fulfillment. Theirs is an unconscious world, unguarded and naive.
Slowly the cunning reptile funds the smallest of openings and slithers inside. For it is through the tiniest of cracks that he is invited in.......