The palm stands on the edge of space.
The wind moves slowly in the branches.
The bird's fire-fangled feathers dangle down.

[T]hinking in the crossing dare not eschew the dearth of preparatory differentiations and elucidations, as long as they only drift in the wind of a decision that comes from afar. Only the chill of the boldness of thinking and the night of errancy of questioning lend glow and light to the fire of be-ing.
P. 303

¶ 7:49 AM