As I have said my gods are the sky and the river and the rock
The grass is brown. There. I said it. The first creation after so long. But no one but me will understand the full reverberations of this secret. The poetry of our souls, of mine at least requires that we separate. Irreconcilable differences. It is only in limitation that I understand. We need to be separate. I have made the decision. Now to weather the slow, anxious uncertainty, day after day, to see if it will rain.