And Where There Is No Echo There

So Often I Wonder Whether It Is My Right To Capitalize, As I Feel, So Often, On The Grief Of Others. But Then I Justify, In My Own Particular Thoughts, By Feeling That I Can Contribute A Little To The Understanding Of What Others Are Going Through; Then There Is Reason For Doing It.

Absolutely Nothing Visible To The Eye Provides A Reason For Or Even Evidence Of Those Terrifying Shifts Which Can In A Matter Of Moments Reconstitute A Simple Path Into An Extremely Complicated One.

I'm All Soils West When The Earth Lets Go. I'm A Thousand Julys.

Maturity, One Discovers, Has Everything To Do With The Acceptance Of ‘not Knowing.

The Thread Has Snapped. No Sound Even To Mark The Breaking Let Alone The Fall. That Long Anticipated Disintegration, When The Darkest Angel Of All, The Horror Beyond All Horrors, Sits At Last Upon My Chest, Permanently Enfolding Me In Its Great Covering Wings, Black As Ink, Veined In Bees' Purple. A Creature Without A Voice. A Voice Without A Name. As Immortal As My Life. Come Here At Long Last To Summon The Wind.