melancholy wind moans off the hilltop grass responds in rhythm clouds wheel across the landscape leaving figment message along the ground bring visions to mind which arenβt even mine change unlike time moves back and forward the myth of now shapes history past fates arise in retrospect regret is futures toil chaotic blows the sand when scene inside the storm remove yourself to see yourself the patterns that are borne the flow and ebb that has no care to minuscule endeavors yet we knit and purl at Indra's net unconscious to the state of grace to which we aim unerring