Sometimes It Was Harder To Change The

The Past Is A Cupboard Full Of Light And All You Have To Do Is Find The Key That Opens The Door.

As I Watch, The Sky Fills With Clouds Of Snow Feathers From Every Kind Of Bird There Ever Was And Even Some That Only Exist In The Imagination, Like The Bluebirds That Fly Over The Rainbow.

When You Chopped Logs With The Ax And They Split Open They Smelled Beautiful, Like Christmas. But When You Split Someone's Head Open It Smelled Like Abattoir And Quite Overpowered The Scent Of The Wild Lilacs You'd Cut And Brought Into The House Only This Morning, Which Was Already Another Life.

What If We Had A Chance To Do It Again And Again, Until We Finally Did Get It Right? Wouldn't That Be Wonderful?

I Was On The Verge Of Something Numinous And Profound And In One More Second The Universe Was Going To Crack Open And Arcana Would Rain Down On My Head Like Grace And All The Cosmic Mysteries Were Going To Be Revealed.