Many Of Us Who Walk To And

I Love Forms Beyond My Own, And Regret The Borders Between Us

Each And All, We Are Riding Into The Dark. Even Living, We Cannot Remember Half The Events Of Our Own Days.

What If I Am, In Some Way, Only A Sophisticated Fire That Has Acquired An Ability To Regulate Its Rate Of Combustion And To Hoard Its Fuel In Order To See And Walk?

Modern Man Lives Increasingly In The Future And Neglects The Present.

For The First Time In Four Billion Years A Living Creature Had Contemplated Himself And Heard With A Sudden, Unaccountable Loneliness, The Whisper Of The Wind In The Night Reeds.