iiiuuiuuiuiiuiuiuiuiuiiiuiuiuiuiuiuiuiuu9uu9uiu9u98ui9999uu9uiuiuuIt is time now you and I to venture out now beneath the sky -- pale and wan -- yet with the slight of hand that a spring day can provide -- warmth with a best before of a couple of hours before its best before - and expiration-- but no more -- no more of that -- at least yet -- WE imagine the warmth is coming -- coming yes -- like Swinborgs Hound of Heaven-- to hunt us down thru the trackless nights. and have us know what our bone marrow has always known -- the life so short the craft so long to learn: Our planet loves us as strangely as we love it.
In the mist I find my tears and as the mist leaves no scar I am born and baptized by the following hope and haven - that horror and harangue - this is my only home and I must find a way to sleep in this rocky port on bad nights.
