Fluctuating falasies of Cataclysmic courage.
The words mean less than they cost.
Yet I am filled,
Overwhelming hope to conquer not hide
the atrocities of man.
Forever would not be so long
If I were not built like a battery operated clock.
Tomorrow could be new or old
And so could yesterday
With a toss of the coins.1
As I sit here, footnoting my own shit
And inadvertantly opressed by
The margins of the page.
But now I grow bold, As I regress old;
For no story is told
That will outlast PLANET EARTH.
1"Toss of the coins." From the I CHING or "Book
In consulting the oracle, three coins are tossed six times, correlating
to one of sixty four possible combinations.... each "hexagram"
is described in the I CHING so your roll is your "fortune."