Monday, August 02, 2004
Because I can't fuckin sleep
A flame begins to flicker. A tiny, indistingishable light beads its way through the harvested bales. Soon the mulch shall catch, and the new crop will burn brightly too, again, perhaps even glimpsing the heavens with its ash. And though it is too bright for most, and they shall hide their eyes from its tidy glow, it will still grow with intensity, burn in its solitude, until it is fit to consume the landscape. Once the flame is lit, it will refuse to be extuingished.
...if I had been born 2000 years ago at least i coulda gotten hired to write the bible.
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