Rendering the expanse of the firmament that forever clad above our heads, we the beings who stay below it can feel the weather of the eternal firmament. Like the phantom time who passes stealthily across the sky without speech, only can it be spoken in the language of the rising and setting sun, but who cares about the sun? Below and under the golden sun, we roam around go around ride around sleep around the same way we did the day before and before and so on. The sunshine symbolizes something in our life, and somewhere in us also feel the same way that part of us come from outside this physical body. Something in us tells us that we have been under the same sun, the same sky for many lifetimes, many thousands of years, it is called the red-dust in Chinese, the dust of the cosmos, the dust of the universe that has brought us back again and again to this world after already many lifetimes before. Shall there be a time when the sun is able to shine through this thick red-dust? Shall there be a period when we`re able to see the sun clearly and dearly? Shall there? Shall there be a time when our soul is able to leave this physical body and reconnects itself with the field of the cosmos? Ask the heart that carries with it the frequency of creation since the day we`re being congested inside the womb, ask the soul with which the heart cannot live without, ask the eternal firmament and glorious rising sun, we shall know that that is so ridiculous but not irrational. That ridiculous journey turns out to be overwhelmingly amazing for which no words could define, no explanation could clarify, what is left plausible is only ourselves, our souls.