Victory is the false God of the unloved.

How we describe what we are doing are the brush strokes and colors.
The painting is what has been done.
What one observes is from the distance of a nanometer and as time passes the distance increases from the observer and the observed.

Process. Journey, growth, generate, and the like are the continuum.
What we did yesterday, are doing today and what think we will do tomorrow.
A course, a line between events and yet what counts is more than the event itself.

Strength in paper wings is they are light and carry us.
Weakness in steel claws is they weigh us down and leave us clinging.

Having coffee in the morning with paper winged Titans, their wings endless laughter and joy, they give off light when there is none.

Passing in a shiny car steel claws scowling gripping in locked fear of letting go.

Meanwhile the clouds as white puffy sentinels, yawn at the drama and stretch effortless across the sky.

What was it they were saying?