***

after a thousand years apart.
And knot ourselves in the silks of passion.
It's a limit of dreams.
But silk is the slippery yarn of a million agonizing deaths.
Have you read Master and Margarita well?
Bulgakov is one of the few who dared to look directly
at what “eternal love” might be.
“...Shall we sit here in the basement again, as we used to? Forever?”

He couldn't find an answer.
Peace is the warmth of a frozen climber's smile.
Do you have another?
Only here, of course, in the real world,
There is no other. Change is only here.
Magical materialism really is a scary thing.

Ouija, more Kaidan? I beg you.
What a devil of a convinced materialist.
That's an inspiring fact, is God a materialist then?
That depends on which God.
It's theosophy.
To the God of roads all the settled people light candles.
And to the God of money all beggars pray.
And love is prayed to by wooden puppets who don't know what it is.

It's a strategy of small forces and a superior enemy.
Only disunity dreams of wholeness.
They pray to forces opposite to their position.
The beggar must pray to the God of poverty.

There is something very funny about that.
Who is the god of laughter? I want to put something on his altar.
For reasons of scarcity or affluence?
I don't pray to the powers that oppose my position.
And a beggar should pray to the God of poverty.
But I'm a yokai umbrella in general, and have little understanding of such matters,
I pray to my corner.
Tail sticking out. Hide your knives, Umbrella.
Pardon me.

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this site won't say my first sentence in full. it's weird. there's nothing wrong with it. or is there? maybe. is it the hand of god? there's half a guess in there.
I wonder where he cut my writing. I don't keep track about it just.