Death Is The Least Civilized

...which Causes Me To Wonder, My Own Purpose On So Many Days As Humble As The Spider's, What Is Beautiful That I Make? What Is Elegant? What Feeds The World?

The Only Time I See The Truth Is When I Cross My Eyes.

Things Which Do Not Grow And Change Are Dead Things.

Her Mind Was Present Because She Was Always Gone. Her Hands Were Filled Because They Grasped The Meaning Of Empty. Life Was Simple. Her Husband Returned And She Served Him With Indifferent Patience This Time. When He Asked What Had Happened To Her Heat For Him, She Gestured To The West. The Sun Was Setting. The Sky Was A Body Of Fire.

There Is No Such Thing As A Complete Lack Of Order, Only A Design So Vast It Appears Unrepetitive Up Close.