Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it. The river was cut by the world's great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some of the rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs. I am haunted by waters.

- Norman Maclean

I peer through the never, and into the darkness I speak. ....I ask the heavens; why?, The have only silence as their awnser. there is no why. happiness is an illusion, a conjured figment of the mind. stability is lost, innocence is lost, slow coming misfourtunes come in ravage packs of frenzied wolves, feasting on the nil reminicince of the hope we once throbbed with.

Yet how much can I take, short of breath and words to speak.