The stars weave the only path I follow. Friday, July 20, 2012. No ripple in the pond. The passing of a weightless pebble. In the middle of a quiet afternoon. It is then that it hits. It is then that it hurts. Surely are most slack then. Because, surely where are they. When the heart stretches and stretches. Yet finds that that which fills. Is not the intangible belongingness;. It is the more tangible emptiness.