Living in the light of burdens astride the great heavy dull. Wherein masks diverged from faces plant themselves in history's embrace. And sing-song nature's revel in the deep and wide of the world; it spewing fodder for men of the fullest persuasion. Light me amid these dark moments that I might know fear and, in so doing, feel the pain of finitude that is every person's fate to feel.
It's peculiar the way that carrying out can usher in: Burdens. I've seen a swell of burdens carried out the door. Burdens that fill bags-- literally fill bags-- beautiful bags that sat at cross purposes. I saw a beautiful being tote those beautiful bags, swelling with burdens, out my front door. Such a sight and such a sensation.