Transience and brevity lives here.
It's woven into everything.
Poems here are meant to be ruminated on.
The readings short, but the pondering long.
Detached from the dust of this world
and the old, clamoring, foolish men who play it like a board game,
I am unfettered.
The measure of success I hear people repeating
...
Fixed upon a dreamlike land
On a journey I roam.
Free from illusions hand
All the world is home.
...
Gaia, what do you have in mind for us?
The children of the waste, the people of dust.
We are the many, we are the ones.
Your elder daughters, your firstborn sons.
...