The Insoluble Cremation Comments

Spheres of flesh without centres ignite the unfamiliar approach of Sunset, reflecting endless consistencies of life, fashioning light through services commemorating anguish, the rhythms repeated in auditoriums belonging to the entirety of Nature not yet received; the ink of innocence, a grudge strengthened by neglection; — sap scurries across winds, slipping through dyed grass and hollowed oak, sticking sight to a miniature festival testifying a New Beauty, the lifelong ambition shadowed only by basic remorse! — The Divine Exchange of instinctual reaction departs youth, the forever returning ephemeral performance, disintegrating under a Summer light blackening winter, a season which has no need to see us again.

Slumped down, in each other's arms, on scaffolds beside purple waterfalls — the all too familiar feeling which indicates nothing, no victory, no loss, but an aftermath sets in our stomachs, reminding us both of the horizon in Venice; — too silent to be understood as anything but decay, I watch on as ancient actors find themselves jagged and bleeding in the foam of the rapids, - our breath loses it's significance once again.
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