Always, Worlds Within Worlds.

A Soul Of Water A Soul Of Stone. A Soul By Name A Soul Unknown. The Hours Unmake Our Flesh Our Bone. The Soul Is All And All Alone!

There Is No Such Thing As Originality. It Has All Been Said Before, Suffered Before. If A Person Knows That, Is It Any Wonder Love Becomes Mechanical And Death Just A Scene To Be Shunned? There Is No Absolute Knowledge To Be Gained From Either. Just Another Ride On The Merry-go-round, Another Blurred Scene Of Faces Smiling And Faces Grieved.

Well, It Was Most Likely Too Late; There Would Not Be Time For Me To Flagellate Myself For Every Dishonorable Deed In That List, Nor Any Chance To Make Good The Harms I’d Done. Minor Harms, To Be Sure, In The Scheme Of Things; But Large Enough To Regret.

She Was A Sea: And I Had To Swim In Her.

We’re Too Much Ourselves. Afraid Of Letting Go Of What We Are, In Case We Are Nothing, And Holding On So Tight, We Lose Everything Else.