When People Are Serving, Life Is No

I Understand That The World Was Nothing: A Mechanical Chaos Of Casual, Brute Enmity On Which We Stupidly Impose Our Hopes And Fears. I Understood That, Finally And Absolutely, I Alone Exist. All The Rest, I Saw, Is Merely What Pushes Me, Or What I Push Against, Blindly - As Blindly As All That Is Not Myself Pushes Back. I Create The Whole Universe, Blink By Blink.

The True Artist Plays Mad With His Soul, Labors At The Very Lip Of The Volcano, But Remembers And Clings To His Purpose, Which Is As Strong As The Dream. He Is Not Someone Possessed, Like Cassandra, But A Passionate, Easily Tempted Explorer Who Fully Intends To Get Home Again, Like Odysseus.

There Is No Limit To Desire But Desire's Needs.

When I Was A Child I Truly Loved: Unthinking Love As Calm And Deep As The North Sea. But I Have Lived, And Now I Do Not Sleep.

Talking, Talking. Spinning A Web Of Words, Pale Walls Of Dreams, Between Myself And All I See.