Fallen leaves, so fragile, flutter in the breeze. The dance illuminates, amidst a torrent of voices raging, as beauty fades away. Caught in the throes of decay and winter light opens the possibility of an astonishing renewal, not beyond recognition, yet vague and visceral. To await its coming requires the patience of change in the unchanging, a mystery in speech and act, arising to a disclosure of reality.
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
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