The Winter Does What It Can For

How Many People Came And Stayed A Certain Time, Uttered Light Or Dark Speech That Became Part Of You Like Light Behind Windblown Fog And Sand Filtered And Influenced By It, Until No Part Remains That Is Surely You.

It Is Because Everything Is Relative That We Shall Never See In That Sphere Of Pure Wisdom And Entertainment Much More Than Groping Shadows Of An Incomplete Former Existence So Close It Burns Like The Mouth That Closes Down Over All Your Effort Like The Moment Of Death

We Are Prisoners Of The World's Demented Sink. The Soft Enchantments Of Our Years Of Innocence Are Harvested By Accredited Experience Our Fondest Memories Soon Turn To Poison And Only Oblivion Remains In Season.

It Never Seems To Occur To Anyone That Each Reader Is Different, And That Even Those Who Might Be Said To Resemble Each Other Will Each Bring An Individual Set Of Experiences And References To Their Reading, And Interpret And Misinterpret It According To These.

Until Only Infinity Remained Of Beauty