The twinkle now shines through the far rocks of key heugh, with the moist steam of winter still lingering in thick haze.
The strife battles between the ears on a question of when the time comes. So much love. So much need for the adventure of a lifetime in painted crystal expression.
I see a line day in day out that roars such a horrid obsession, it scarce allows survival. I see my whole life stretch forth and up-wall upon the time of departure.
The gentle swathe of pain is and shall be the highest legacy of free spirit in me. On the moment of departure I become a demigod - To surrender all earthly treasures in the pursuit of the truest of all brilliance. I become a channel for the genius of the natural lines of sandstone. Of Key Heugh and the tripping dales of scorched heather, I become.
In the fine detailed endless-linking world of man, I rip a single thought to rebare a brand new schema of existence. Here, all that matters is what ripples on the fingertips and throbs in my mind. Here out-pokes the very essence of my mortality. So much so that it twists to my immortality. For behold! The finest engraving of my prickled mind takes that jelly-mold of inside-out arete.
What kind of madness is this, that takes a whole winter's rain and deluges fierce the greatest lampoon of horrid gopp? I rise a dry being of promised hope. I rise the next mortal to cross the bounds of endless flight. I am he that sees the terrifying future of selfless expression.