November 16, 2006

This gust, this warmth, this gentle breeze.
This hurricane, this inferno, this tornado.
Oh, it is not the fact, but the magnitude of the fact which spells doom.
Is not a blizzard but a refreshing breeze, pushed beyond its bounds?
Is not cancer but growth, but overly intense and unchecked?
And then, caution is a shard of terror.
Love is well-directed attatchment.
And a good night's sleep is temporary surrender to our frail nature.