We Exist With A Wind Whispering Inside

I Had Lived All Of My Youthful Dreams, But I Couldn't Think Of Many Adult Ones. I Finally Realized That We Don't Have Many Dreams For Adults Because, Historically, People Have Always Died Much Younger Than They Do Today.

Suddenly This Defeat. This Rain. The Blues Gone Gray And The Browns Gone Gray And Yellow A Terrible Amber. In The Cold Streets Your Warm Body. In Whatever Room Your Warm Body. Among All The People Your Absence The People Who Are Always Not You. I Have Been Easy With Trees Too Long. Too Familiar With Mountains. Joy Has Been A Habit. Now Suddenly This Rain.

Question The Bravery. Say It's Not Courage. Call It A Passion.

Why Do So Manysettle For So Little? I Don't Understand Why They're Not Greedy For What's Inside Them.

How Astonishing It Is That Language Can Almost Mean, And Frightening That It Does Not Quite.