How Poor And Disheartening A Thing Is

When, And How, And At What Stage Of Our Development Did Spirituality And Our Strange Notions Of Religion Arise? The Need For Worship Which Is Nothing More Than Our Frightened Refuge Into Propitiation Of A Creator We Do Not Understand? A Detective Story, The Supreme Who-done-it, Written In Indecipherable Hieroglyphics, No Rosetta Stone Supplied By The Consummate Mystifier To Tease Us Poor Fumbling Unravellers Of His Plot.

The More One Gardens, The More One Learns; And The More One Learns, The More One Realizes How Little One Knows.

There Are No Signposts In The Sea.

See The Last Orange Roses, How They Blow / Deeper And Heavier Than In Their Prime, / In One Defiant Flame Before They Go.

I Worshipped Dead Men For Their Strength, Forgetting I Was Strong.