April 14th, 2003 - 5:00 p.m.

The beauty. (Of it all.)

Am a momentary creature. Wane and wax with frequency of fruit fly funeral. Never quite deviating. Not one nor the other. Gleeful child walking tightrope on imaginary line, trying not to fall.

Complication of yesterday and tomorrow and tomorrow is lost between the mesh. And everything is gradiented grey.

But perfection in nothing-at-all-edness. Stillness in blinks and plays of light. The memory is permanent. The memory, is ageless.

Tomorrow and tomorrow, and yesterday, could feel nothing at all.

Tomorrow, and yesterday, could fragment the heart too much.

Tomorrow, could be the greatest.

One never knows.

N.

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