...life's Big. If You Can't Fix It,

Love Of Love Written By The Broken Hearted, Love Of Life Written By The Dead.

Here Then - The After Math Of Meaning. A Liftime Finished Between The Space Of Two Frames.

Keep True To The Rare Music In Your Heart, To The Marvelous And Unique Form That Is And Shall Always Be Nothing Else But You. Keep To That And You Can Do No Wrong, Which I Realize Is Easier Said Than Done.

My Hands Resemble Some Ancient Tree: The Roots That Bind Up The Earth, The Rock And The Ceaselessly Nibbling Wordms.

Here Then At Long Last Is My Darkness. No Cry Of Light, No Glimmer, Not Even The Faintest Shard Of Hope To Break Free Across The Hold.