“The LayersI have walked through many lives,some of them my own,and I am not who I was,though some principle of beingabides, from which I strugglenot to stray.When I look behind,as I am compelled to lookbefore I can gather strengthto proceed on my journey,I see the milestones dwindlingtoward the horizonand the slow fires trailingfrom the abandoned camp-sites,over which scavenger angelswheel on heavy wings.Oh, I have made myself a tribeout of my true affections,and my tribe is scattered!How shall the heart be reconciledto its feast of losses?In a rising windthe manic dust of my friends,those who fell along the way,bitterly stings my face.Yet I turn, I turn,exulting somewhat,with my will intact to gowherever I need to go,and every stone on the roadprecious to me.In my darkest night,when the moon was coveredand I roamed through wreckage,a nimbus-clouded voicedirected me:“Live in the layers,not on the litter.”Though I lack the artto decipher it,no doubt the next chapterin my book of transformationsis already written.I am not done with my changes.”

“In my darkest night,when the moon was coveredand I roamed through wreckage,a nimbus-clouded voicedirected me:“Live in the layers,not on the litter.”Though I lack the artto decipher it,no doubt the next chapterin my book of transformationsis already written.I am not done with my changes.”

“I have walked through many lives,some of them my own,and I am not who I was,though some principle of beingabides, from which I strugglenot to stray.”

“Never shall I forget that night, the first night in camp, which has turned my life into one long night, seven times cursed and seven times sealed....Never shall I forget those moments which murdered my God and my soul and turned my dreams to dust. Never shall I forget these things, even if I am condemned to live as long as God Himself. Never.”

“They turn the water off, so I live without water,they build walls higher, so I live without treetops,they paint the windows black, so I live without sunshine,they lock my cage, so I live without going anywhere,they take each last tear I have, I live without tears,...they take my heart and rip it open, I live without heart,they take my life and crush it, so I live without a future,they say I am beastly and fiendish, so I have no friends,they stop up each hope, so I have no passage out of hell,they give me pain, so I live with pain,they give me hate, so I live with my hate,they have changed me, and I am not the same man,they give me no shower, so I live with my smell,they separate me from my brothers, so I live without brothers,who understands me when I say this is beautiful?who understands me when I say I have found other freedoms?I cannot fly or make something appear in my hand,I cannot make the heavens open or the earth tremble,I can live with myself, and I am amazed at myself, my love, my beauty,I am taken by my failures, astounded by my fears,I am stubborn and childish,in the midst of this wreckage of life they incurred,I practice being myself,and I have found parts of myself never dreamed of by me,they were goaded out from under rocks in my heartwhen the walls were built higher,when the water was turned off and the windows painted black.I followed these signslike an old tracker and followed the tracks deep into myselffollowed the blood-spotted path,deeper into dangerous regions, and found so many parts of myself,who taught me water is not everything,and gave me new eyes to see through walls,and when they spoke, sunlight came out of their mouths,and I was laughing at me with them,we laughed like children and made pacts to always be loyal,who understands me when I say this is beautiful?”

“I cannot expiate my sin, yet I am compelled to try. My mind will not let me rest. There must be something I could have done, some way I could have acted, something I could have changed to snatch victory from bitter defeat.”