here i am again. at the altar of self, the window before which countless past selves have laid their burdens, rested their weary limbs, and bowed their heads in reverence to the sky. it is an honor to be back here, at this place of having and wanting nothing, desiring all and nothing. i wish to speak of this storm within, as well as all those beautiful blooms and losses.
time goes on. the struggle is still present, but nature herself continues expanding, always outward, without the same assurance that i keep expecting of the universe.
this is a perpetual no-man's land.
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