Saturday, June 05, 2010

work finely made may be never finally done

version 1

Thanks to this medium, there is, when needed, rebirth. Elations of solitude bearing sketches among sketches, merged into a singular piece, pieces among pieces composing a clear horizon can inspire distant transforms returning to have been destined for somewhere else.

It was only literary psychology, aspects of a tropical mind.

It was a sense of our Conversation of Humanity. It was a Conceptuality
of progressive flourishing. It was a singular expression of scientific humanity, an Apology for philosophical life, a new comprehension
of Literature, an anticipation of post-humanity.

It was a theory of feeling, elated embodiment, an odysseyic letter.

It was a journal of days going by: What great event, what original emergence may there be?

It was an art of living, a theory of happiness, a theory of value.
It was The Good of a scenic mind in an ethical life no less in love with transgression.

It was a history of evolving artfulness, a self-begetting Earthling facing some cosmos.