In this winter where I find freshly fallen leaves covered with snow, Fall leaped on without mercy by the next season. And the bright orange shapes that peak out of the white crust stand brilliant and singular, boasting even. Unprepared for their mortality, defiant even. But under their shadows greater things shift. Suddenly there comes a time of reinvention riding on the fallen freaks of a broken extremism and paranoid delusions. Give no quarter for such swine, ours is a battle for beginnings that threaten to slip back with the oil-fouled tides.
But I stand puzzled over basic tenets. As my life has shifted from one path to another the greater economic conflagration and political insanity pales in the face of an epic search of the Word. Not some biblical edict spoken by a breathless god but a question of a mortal about how to lead a happy life. Melodramatic phrasing I will admit, but the question still stands resolute. I am willing to forget prejudices about what that word means, take into account the importance of struggle and remove the judgmental nature of good and bad. Starting from the ground and looking up. And I am at a loss for words...
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