a newbaby film. pixie and the Countess making out
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a country cottage in Cambridgeshire
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That's quite harsh, isn't it?
How shall I?
that you all thought impossible, but how, a mind blanks at eye, torn off, unused.
Nor wretchedly, because an only mind can take some wronged flying fear of its wrong beginnings
and may never assure extinction, that we travel to, and shall be lost in, always.
Not to be here, not to be anywhere, and soon, nothing will tell,
nothing more.
This is a special way of being afraid, no crystals or spells.
Religion has to try, a ceiling that decides what we fear.
No sight, no sound, or nostalgia, or nothing to think with, nothing to love or think with.
And so it stays, just as it ever was.
A small, unbroken blur, a standing chill, that slows each impulse down to give a sign to people.
Bordering, courage no good, it means not scaring others.
Being brave lets no one off the grave.
Death is no different, wind us, knowing that we are safe.
I'm served by my counsellor.
Home.
up and perhaps down there
and
down and up
over the best world we've ever seen.
This royal throne of kings, this sected isle, this earth...
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