It's the quiet voice, that speaks up at night. A lone skiff in the tumultuous ocean. Drowned in the noise of day. Failingly heard, when the calming moon soothes the turblent tides away. It's message, a guiding beacon on the rocky cliffs. A lighthouse for the wrecked. Its' mousey whispers worth more then riches. But, only for those, that look to the stars, and hope guides their way.