I thought I was growing wings— it was a cocoon. I thought, now is the time to step into the fire— it was deep water. Eschatology is a word I learned as a child: the study of Last Things; facing my mirror—no longer young, the news—always of death, the dogs—rising from sleep and clamoring and howling, howling, nevertheless I see for a moment that`s not it: it is the First Things. Word after word floats through the glass. Towards me.SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
The script ran 0.001 seconds.