Sunset, I reckon you not in distance; more like in
instants. I respect you from a
distance. Happenings not in the realm
psychological, proper—more like in line with pronouncements of a mythical
order, spectacle to
devour. Devouring
me, devouring you.
Sunset I reckon you in in-trance. Form me, from me. Morph.
Morpheme: smallest unit of meaning.
Leaf, outgrown by back light, in
a beautiful fight. In beautiful
flight. Somersault and catapult into its
own dominion, never abandoning strength through opening and letting in: life;
you can’t take in more than you what get; you can't take in more than what you give. Sentiment incompatible with regret.
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