The Prognosticator, 2019
“We stand at the edge of a precipice, looking to the horizon, one with everything. We are the land, the air, the water, the forest, every living thing in it. We are the pollution, the devastation from which we avert our gaze. It is all the same. The rest is classification, separation in names only. But we just don’t know it.
The question is; will we wake up, or remain deranged?
Windhand put it well, ‘Isn’t it all a mess? Soon it will blow away’
May we long continue, by blowing along with it”