I heard the door of the tower nailed shut and I looked at my three silent sons. I did not cry and so I turned to stone inside. When I saw hopelessness in my children's eyes, I bit my hands in grief. Seeing this, they thought I was hungry and begged me to eat their flesh as their reason said it was I who gave it to them. Oh, hard hard earth, why didn't you open up then? I saw them die, one by one by one. Then I gave myself, now blind, to groping over their bodies and calling them to eat as if they were alive, my mouth licking the salt off their flesh. Then my hunger had more power than my grief.
It's supposed to be getting better and better, kinder and gentler the higher I go. But it just seems to be getting worse.
*QUESTIONS SPRING UP LIKE FRESH SHOOTS AT THE FOOT OF TRUTH. THIS IS THE NATURE THAT SPURS US TO THE SUMMIT, PUSHES US ON, FROM HEIGHT TO HEIGHT.