volume i. iii.ix.mmx

hard

to see sometimes with the feathers of wasted time fluttering in front of our silly faces and hard to hear with the deafening roar of misplaced efforts to get things we never wanted plugging our ears while we trod along in between the tracks on the ties headed right toward the light which might be four minutes or forty four years off in the rainy distance full of illness and debt, cancer and mortgages, false teachers and hounds from hell, car accidents and foreclosures - and sometimes it's comforting for someone to yell at us or with us while we walk in the direction of all these things that will or will not cut us right to the

core.