I think (/realise).
Enough poetry: enjoy some science writing for a change.
Pied white ‘n dull-green ‘n shim’ring black, treasuring the trove you’ve gathered.
Itsumo to eien ni.
The fire of the dragon’s protest-flame marks only its self ‘n message.
The air’s electrically-lit between each of the eight trees – their roots breaking the grey and moss-green, late-night, cobbled surface.
Itsumo no keikai.
Only, really, time for teaching (worth it) others.
Red that chips/that fades to fray.
The road’s become community.
I doubted if… No traveler returns If I should e’er come back…
Words like water…
Such sudden change; a moment of momentum.