WRITING THE STORY WITHOUT FALLING DOWN... CHAPTER ONE: This story is a short trip into madness... A long haul into our echo to stave off what's surely coming... The ridge line glimmered as the sun got dressed for the day-tripping across the universe. You'd have to be crazy to see it otherwise, perhaps it's just me? (Who's crazy?) Yes. (Join the club, Poetryman.) Why me? (Shit, boy! You know the answer to that weak kneed response!) Why not? (Eureka! The boy's catching on like hot cakes with peanut butter! In the wind, Scribbler, just relax and go in hot, brother, have that spirit of Love enter in with you and you're sure to find it a joy...) She is with Me. Think. (Yip.) CHAPTER TWO: The ridge line beat a trail into grooves, beams of light glancing off of the next command of God: you become pointless if you don't speak! But then the same might be said of your silence. The chirp of night leaked...
(The Weaver's Song)