Friday, December 11, 2009


beauty may fade ... it will ... goodness may follow ... surely ... what still abides but the truth ... beatrice is old ugly bitter and spiteful but I know at least that's the truth and she might too ... alfonse has lost his mind is bedridden ... for all we know completely without a thought ... the tragedy is not that he's free of the truth but that he's held to it of necessity ... all the truth requires is one thought of one reality to which it must conform ... and all the other truths are a sense of the implications of this first grand basic truth ... a sense of it towards it forever ... frustrated combative wistful all thoughts return to that first thought ... exitus ah I remember reditus ... there's always that truth there's always though delayed that return and the closer that it gets the brighter it becomes the more complete the fuller the better the more beautiful it grows ... all because into the hollow waste of empty space someone spoke the truth and even out there it was heard felt sensed thought as in a dream ... when hard reality has come to that last potency ... as if ... and hearing a metaphor it turns

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