We Are Broken Rain
Broken rain falls independently without potential for perichoresis they do not forming puddles as they should. Every separate ambition is at odds with all the other little ambitions, trapped in a snow-globe world of self-significance and matchstick babel towers of our own sordid achievements. Cheep philosophies rebound from the walls of this snow-globe, self-fashioning limitless echoes which guess the content of any counter argument. They chew off their own ears in the self-importance of being a teacher, like a faustian imbecile who has littered the floor with pages of children's books but thought himself above their pictures. Who punctuates his life with commas of conversation: All opportunities to shout white noise at bored and tired ornaments of ego, and thus banish listening to the caverns of past lessons, that are remembered and repeat but in fact, never learned ! Even in the nursery we piled ...