Beyond pain, there lies a place where leaves slowly fall,
then rise on sweet blue wings to share a home with former homes,
branches anxious to start again. Beyond pain, squirrels chitter
to squirrels and cats and dogs, insistent, this is the height that's best.
Strides indicate comfort. Running from is quite equivalent
to running for. Beyond pain there is a meal and sleep,
dream sleep, reams of sleep. I read about it once. And you
told me about it, in that farmhouse with a bad fate, before
that night when we lost it, to knob and tube and fire.
Roman Ryan 