Alankrit continues

I did not run, know this! I cannot.

I walked, I could not walk well either. But the ground feels good beneath one's feet.

Often i think, why does the ground sanctify me? When nothing else does?
But why shouldn't it? It sanctifies all else.

I did not trust vehicles, but it was my raft that carried me forth from the isles of Nietzsche.

It rained seven days and seven nights, but that placid sea gave not a murmur. And this was
not stagnancy. And I grew to love the sea, and I think I might join it again. But then I saw land again. And curse me for chancing upon it!

This isle was sweet, this isle was green. There were no rivers here, yet soft ground was plentiful. How was I to again find the sea?

I could not see a shore, and the sun chose to bashfully hide itself. But what bakes my ugly skin?

I have just emerged from a cramped space. I discover my arms and legs are long!
Presently they helped me lope along.

"Can you crawl ?"

"Thieves crawl."




Its a sick world, sick,sick,sick.