each moment is fragile. fragile because it is delicate, transparent, almost invisible. layered - indivisible. faces and time. the strangeness with the way things pass behind. that which in one moment is all encompassing - as as breathe - fades away… newspapers from another time leaking away the ink against the slow tick of dust and moisture…

life rusts . it is the  inherent quality that we all crumble.. . yet within this crumbling the moon rises , beckons blue light.. . the sun rises fusing tremendous powers . .. radiating . .. central rythms only because the stretch of time they occupy is so much longer than own.

our own ryhtms - the living , the drama, the fullness of passion - that wanes grows tired - those who breathe went quick , whose idealisms strode in long planes across the landscape of culture , they faded — whirled away like the wind vanishes always leaving its trace.

breath - the mind seeks to understand - that which is both poetic and based on countless observation . ..

kali - the mistress of time - the mistress of death - - that cold cold buzz, lack of warmth and sun - - - the touch of a dead mans fingers long after he is dead - cold