One Forgets That One Is One. I

Love Of Love Written By The Broken Hearted, Love Of Life Written By The Dead.

Here Then - The After Math Of Meaning. A Liftime Finished Between The Space Of Two Frames.

What Miracle Is This? This Giant Tree. It Stands Ten Thousand Feet High But Doesn't Reach The Ground. Still It Stands. Its Roots Must Hold The Sky.

He [zampano] Probably Would Of Insisted On Corrections And Edits, He Was His Own Harshest Critic, But I've Come To Believe Errors, Especially Written Errors, Are Often The Only Markers Left By A Solitary Life: To Sacrifice Them Is To Lose The Angels Of Personality, The Riddle Of A Soul. In This Case A Very Old Soul. A Very Old Riddle.

Come Morning I Found The Day As I Have Found Every Other Day--without Relief Or Explanation.