There buried in the rushing blare of thoughts that are happening even at this instant when I pull a string of words from head to fingertips, buried in it all, not as another character speaking, but the self-sound, comes the flicker (I MUST change!) or (Give energy to the sounds of the heart, give to others, give up the self!) or (rush, LOOK, see that, no need to reduce anything to material consideration, leave!) or (cold that eats, cold that eats, feeds on waning darkness) or (out of sight out of mind is lie, pure lie — within sight of mind is all that mind knows and has known, sight is insight, foresight, hindsight, far-sight, near-sight) or (fear) or (saying) or (be) and the body under it all. Trains of words move so many directions, desire to be loved and to love drowns in the desire of the ego to be filled with attention, and all writing is mediation (why state the obviously occurring thought). Actions cluster in certain areas: i.e., volunteer actions are the deviation for the self… they should be the standard, the norm, the average. Time to recalculate.