StandChild, why do you sulk alwaysWith your head buried so deep in your pillow of down?Why do you beat yourself ceaselesslyWith its softness, when such useless effortResults in no pain? If there is pleasure inPain and pain in loneliness, why don't youSimply strive for the former rather thanSkip to the latter?The edges have begun to tear, the feathersHave begun to fly; all round your headThe angles cry and wait and hope for your return.Your loneliness is not the result of insufficient character;Your loneliness is the product of habit.Stand up, child,Stand up.I am with you always.
Eternal DreamsWhat will happen when I die?Will I simply slowly decay, as flake by flakeMy dry bones disintegrate and nurture the ground,Satisfy the soil? Will my flesh just rot away,Slowly yet steadily, as the birds and insects feed?Am I just an animal?Will I feel nothing when I die?Absolutely nothing?A dark dim deep vault, starless surrender,All memories gone, faded, lost forever,Forever forgotten? My mind, empty?Will I even have a mind anymore?Or will there just be darkness, deepWhole, unearthly darkness,No thought, no feeling, no sense, no sight,Nothing, absolutely nothing?Should I fear these things,