I am afraid I might end up like that waxwing, which upon seeing the azure of the sky, propelled itself excitedly towards the windowpane, and then knocked itself out. I do not dare wish for too much. Fate often plays the nastiest tricks on the valorously hopeful. But unfortunately, or so it seems, the heart cannot be reigned in such affairs. The impulses are too strong and the prospects too enrapturing. I am slowly, unconsciously, heedlessly gaining momentum. The sky has me mesmerized. Alas, what would I not give to pass beyond this windowpane, beyond this reflected world of dreams, and capture that singular empyrean beauty.