It's Very Painful To Be

She Died On A Windy Gray Day In March When The Sky Was Full Of Darting Crows And The World Lay Prostrate And Defeated After Winter. Peter Lake Was At Her Side And It Ruined Him Forever. It Broke Him As He Had Not Ever Imagined He Could Have Been Broken. He Would Never Again Be Young, Or Able To Remember What It Was Like To Be Young. What He Had Once Taken To Be Pleasures Would Appear To Him In His Defeat As Hideous And Deserved Punishments For Reckless Vanity.

She Knew Words No One Had Ever Heard Of, And She Used Words Every Day That Had Been Mainly Dead Or Sleeping For Hundreds Of Years.

Not Surprisingly, He Began To Sing, And Because No One In The World Could Hear Him, And He Sang Without Inhibition, He Sang Well.

Heavy Blizzards Start As A Gentle And Persistent Snow.

Justice Can Sleep For Years And Awaken When It Is Least Expected. A Miracle Is Nothing More Than Dormant Justice From Another Time Arriving To Compensate Those It Has Cruelly Abandoned. Whoever Knows This Is Willing To Suffer, For He Knows That Nothing Is In Vain.