I'll take one for the other and work my way through this machine

the tongue swells and cracks in the short absence of hydration.  Three days, three years, it's all the same for the cells constructed of simplicity.  Two parts this, one part that, the language of our being mimics that of our soul.  Paradise a prison.  Humanity exists beyond the formalities of hello, goodbye and otherwise.  The complexity of exchanging pleasantries does as much to quench the thirst of a mind on fire as a cup of sea water does for amelioration of drought.



It's not starvation that brings a strong man to his knees, rather removal from the most basic of necessity.  Life breads life.  Exile, be it self induced or otherwise, results in a cognitive thirst without relief.  We must be cautious when building a cabin.  We must understand that replenishing one's cup is not a process ideal in isolation.  We must reach out our root regardless the distance between contact.  The drop of rain that falls upon our leaves is exciting not quenching.  For that patients is paramount.  Denying impulse, delaying gratification, allowing that drop to roll from our parched leaves into the soil so far away is the only sure way that it will touch our out stretched root.