November 24, 2013 § Leave a comment
And the change is swirling all around one crisis after another through this place which will until the end of our time be the place she’d rather not be when the madness comes home. In vain sometimes reaching for what is and what will always be the unachievable. Questioning the shadow of what always was. Mummified and caged. Oh so devastatingly weary of and from the ache that permanently comes-micro death lightning strikes each time. But alas-still she opens to what she cannot change, and alas, in return she is beaten by truth in abundance.
This the meek, trampled.
She points to it and writes, This is where we die.