But how did you come burning down like a wild needle, knowing just where my heart was?

All night my heart makes its way however it can over the rough ground of uncertainties, but only until night meets and then is overwhelmed by morning, the light deepening, the wind easing and just waiting, as I too wait (and when have I ever been disappointed?) for redbird to sing

I don't want to end up simply having visited this world.

But how did you come burning down like a wild needle, knowing just where my heart was?

Drive down any road, take a train or an airplane across the world, leave your old life behind, die and be born again~ wherever you arrive they'll be there first, glossy and rowdy and indistinguishable. The deep muscle of the world.

I wanted to hurry into the work of my life; I wanted to know, whoever I was, I was alive for a little while.

This is the first, wildest, and wisest thing I know, that the soul exists, and that it is built entirely out of attention.