We cannot own ourselves, nor each other, nor the momentary fragrance of a flower. let alone a solitary drop of dew or a single star. We cannot sacrifice ourselves to momentary events. We will only come across wondrous features that drift through our senses as a slow procession.
A Slow Procession. Verse from a Poem
A Slow Procession. Verse from a Poem
A Slow Procession. Verse from a Poem
We cannot own ourselves, nor each other, nor the momentary fragrance of a flower. let alone a solitary drop of dew or a single star. We cannot sacrifice ourselves to momentary events. We will only come across wondrous features that drift through our senses as a slow procession.