Home for the exile in a secular and contingent world is always provisional

It Went By Me something very beautiful just went by me something not to tell in words in feelings so fragile so wild something yet to tell is no longer why and when it left i can't tell.

despite all our desperate, eternal attempts to separate, contain and mend, categories always leak.

Home for the exile in a secular and contingent world is always provisional

Speaking, writing, and discoursing are not mere acts of communication; they are above all acts of compulsion. Please follow me. Trust me, for deep feeling and understanding require total committment.

you and I are close, we intertwine; you may stand on the other side of the hill once in awhile, but you may also be me while remaining what you are and what I am not.