Dawn Rose From The Desert And Turned

The Bitterness Of Joy Lies In The Knowledge That Is Cannot Last. Nor Should Joy Last Beyond A Certain Season, For, After That Season, Even Joy Would Become Merely Habit.

She Looked, And A Scarlet Butterfly Flew Away From Her, Away Down The Length Of The Tower, And Then Another, Another, An Unraveling Scarf Of Butterflies Like Winged Blood.

The So-called Real World. Human Misery And Sadness. Blind Politics And General Cruelty.

If You Run Away From Trouble, It Always Follows.

Flat Or Round, There Has Always Been Hate In The World.