Threading the Labyrinth...until the configurations reveal their fates.

Built up of examples nobody is meant to hear--the soot sticks on the ink stone

Bubbled impermanence doling out comparisons of so many beautiful trails since
The snowmelt of last winter with its murky philters. Seasons serve to explain 
Something where our shadow's miming no longer assisted us, the veritable sinks 
Of anonymity brought us instead. Together by chance, that is to say, through a clear
Blue outlet of the treatment pond. That decides the clot on paper as if wisdom


Imparted from a burn. The outcome depends on the state of your papers, wisdom's
Adage arriving comparatively late. I wonder if I ever got tired or does the grindstone
Tempt scribbling 
...