I finally wrote something I'm fairly proud of. All these times and places and occaisons are now and here and we are enabled to apprehend at all what is great and noble only by the perpetual instilling and drenching of the reality which surrounds us. Let company come and company go, let the bells ring and the children cry. If an engine whistles, let it whistle until it is hoarse and in pain Let us settle ourselves from change and stomp our feet downward through mud and slush of opinion, and prejudice, and tradition, and delusion, and appearance that covers the globe Be it life or death, we crave only reality and if I'm really dying, I want to hear the rattle in my throat and feel the cold engulf my body My instinct tells me that my head is an organ for burrowing in which I'll burrow into a new home.