April 28th, 2002. - 12:52 p.m.

Rain, foolishness, and obligation.

Water is descending to the ground, soaking the soft tender spring earth. It drenches the pathways, the fragile budding tips of the winter weary trees. Encases the world in dramatic lighting, holds it prisoner to a sense of aesthetic just for one day.

Do not be a fool. A quarter of life is learning to surrender. It is a luxury; and by now, you ought to know that. To fortify ones heart against any intrusion is an exercise in self massacre. Never forget, that only in love and tender pain, is true beauty. Only ever be frightened of anger and hate. But not too frightened.

Sickened by obligation. By ties. Bindings to a past where no option was given. Sigh. Pretending that formalities and structure will do away with this mess. For moments, there is a suspension of belief, and it becomes truth. Then it fades, the magic erodes, the fog dissipates, and am left with a lingering memory.

N.

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