He sought a soul worthy of sharing in the Universe.
-Jorge Luis Borges
I practice flight with you often. The plastic eagle, the tissue box, your stories - all ground me briefly. The boy, the mole, the fox, the mouse are now kindred spirits - perhaps it is you, a librarian. Our patterns are roadmaps to the divine. Kierkegaard created many avenues. Sun Ra gave us a cosmic portal. Remember Icarus. You burn brightly - but how many flames do you borrow? It seems we've played scorched earth too long - I've forgotten who is the actual enemy. Perhaps this experiment failed, there is no forest or trees -just you aloft in your treehouse. If only this were true art instead of a construct. Did you know that Klimt painted golden forests? One feels the golden couple embracing, wound into the trunks. How I'd like to meet you there someday and anchor under those golden boughs ~ a
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