I used to wonder, why anything happened, why questions had to be asked, why the river flows according to sequence, but the truth is I simply existed somewhere, and naturally the next thing happens, so many scattered seeds in so many places, children happen to exist, for many it's the same, they’re simply buried, they don’t quite know who or what they can be, the height of the heavens and the burden of sin, what can fill their cup, what doors are open and what they accidentally let in, but no matter where they landed or the earth they’re bound to grow in, whether they settle or try to spread their wings, growth is bound to happen, what can fit in the life they happen to be living, seals break, the seasons and the stars, who they happen to be and the strings attached to them, all the food they’ve eaten and broken hymens, the heavens are merciful and just, so many feelings, measured and weighed, spells and curses, undercurrents, what can be, demons and ghosts, so many intentions, shadows and honey in a jar, so many diseases, people hoping for peace and security, safety and a place to sleep, is the truth not pretty, denial, a poet and whimsy, so much thrown away, a cookie crumbling, so many neighbors, and what the truth happens to be, so much is still real, so much life to live, a vibrant mind, so many ideas, and their refinement, alas, we are but men, and our bodies are decaying, how much can the spirit change, magick and it’s boundaries, the stars in the sky, both the sun and the moon, so much in the air, all our dreams, as the river flows, so much can happen, but if we cared to look back, was it just air passing, or as the water settles, is it natural for dreams to find satisfaction, for ideas to find peace, and spirits and ghosts to find graves to rest in...

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