Each One Of Us Is

We Are One Of Many Appearances Of The Thing Called Life; We Are Not Its Perfect Image, For It Has No Perfect Image Except Life, And Life Is Multitudinous And Emergent In The Stream Of Time.

Choices, More Choices Than We Like Afterward To Believe, Are Made Far Backward In The Innocence Of Childhood.

Man Would Not Be Man If His Dreams Did Not Exceed His Grasp... If I Remember The Sunflower Forest It Is Because From Its Hidden Reaches Man Arose. The Green World Is His Sacred Center. In Moments Of Sanity He Must Still Seek Refuge There.

Mind Is Locked In Matter Like The Spirit Ariel In A Cloven Pine. Like Ariel, Men Struggle To Escape The Drag Of The Matter They Inhabit, Yet It Is The Spirit That They Fear.

It Has Been Said That Great Art Is The Night Thought Of Man. It May Emerge Without Warning From The Soundless Depths Of The Unconscious, Just As Supernovas May Blaze Up Suddenly In The Farther Reaches Of Void Space.