there are few opportunities for condolences when it comes to sight. we see too much of the dark—turn away, in truth, to see the sun & we become blind. with death the dark gets illuminated & in that light lies the fate of eternal life—but what lies in the loss that defies sight?
without an “earth” heaven is like grass without a wind & for the wind
there is nothing without these voids & their superfluities—they argue “the dead” provoke thee to take up the hard work of seeds, who, by these same holes, are to join in soil the without this grass & wind is not earth, not heaven & not any deity we know
god is drowned so what is a drought but decay in denial? without
rain there are no holes to wait—an embryo’s weigh—the presence
of so many deities that even time, this capable slaughter, is of a kind endeavoring stars & planets deny each day of their lives though water be, for all eternity