There are ends to the distances
There are ends to all the roads...

I am
as old as...

On and on, forever—
perfection lost...

Parallels are delusion
otherwise, roads were endless...

The reason that we keep on going
is that we are not going anywhere...

The moon,
I...

Thirsty for the truth
he didn't know how parlous is...

Our rages are for our burning.
So...

The darkness in me
is as vacant as I am...

A plain canvas—or paint?
A white peacock, or a rainbow one...

Until we're alive
we're still awaiting the pain...

Actually
it was in the apple of your eyes...