the obsessively cria - 16:48, 14/10/2015

the obsessively criaeocmmlized west, like your abandoned theme park, has become unsustainable, and while our theme park of plastic and wires (including this machine we send our missives through) is still burgeoning rather than abandoned, we also wander the park looking for a purpose to [our] existence . Your art, these words, the Lady's song and birds are our wanderings. It's rather exquisitely/touchingly beautiful the depth of human experience, aging, fear of death, insanity, longing for love, that you distill in your creations. Not to many months back, the theater of a good friends life collapsed, and I found myself variously climbing/sinking into memories to attach or sever the strings of our bond when one morning a crow, suspended in flight, wings upturned, feet down preparing to land hovered out the window and burst away as quickly as it appeared. Life is like that, hovering one second, black, shimmering, here and then whoosh gone. The Lady has her sandy chip reveries of birds and so do I, though in my overcast mind the Goddess of Crows (that's my new name for you) sent me a reminder that life is still shimmering. Thank you even if just to my crazed conception of your powers.GoneThe butterflies would like to staythrough the snow but dawn and dusk fly them and flowers will not wait.Though you seek the children of the days to be born not a one will you find undying tomorrow. Moon after moon water comes and goesgrain after grain we drift through time.There where fire smokes the sky today in days past a billion breathing things.