As One Grows Weaker One Is Less

Desire Is A Pain Which Seeks Easement Through Possession.

Man Is A Flux Of States Of Consciousness, A Flow Of Passing Thoughts, Each Thought Of Self Another Self, A Myriad Thoughts, A Myriad Selves, A Continual Becoming But Never Being, A Will-of-the-wisp Flitting Of Ghosts In Ghostland.

Darn The Wheel Of The World! Why Must It Continually Turn Over? Where Is The Reverse Gear?

I Would Rather Be Ashes Than Dust.

Love, Genuine Passionate Love, Was His For The First Time.