Notes of an Erythrokeramist (Excerpt)

(...) In dreams we dance with families near, yet dawn brings tears for homes no longer here. In dreams we bid loved ones last goodbye, then wake to find simple joys that make us smile. Between dreams and waking, life flows on, fragments joined like pearls upon a string. We think ourselves wise enough to tell dream from reality — But if we never wake, how can we know we dream? And if we ever dream, how can we call ourselves to wake? (...) As stars both rise and set in heaven's dome, all life must bloom then find its final home. Time flows eternal through worlds vast and deep, while fate weaves webs where all must dance and leap. We're but small motes in fate's grand design, brief sparks that in life's vast dome shine. We tremble wild as clouds that drift and fade — Why seek to grasp what can't be understood? Why build what world has never stood? Why build on beds already made? Why seek depths beneath the laid? What senses cannot grasp need not be. If it is, it is as nothing. (...) In White Dryad's dance I see sweet scents grow, while feast songs taste like honey's gentle flow. Garden perfumes show rainbow light, while honey streams sing pure delight. My soul sees truth in all that lives and grows, while my mind breaks free from reason's rigid throes. A flower greets me, all senses embrace it, there it dwells — Yet to record, sketch, or preserve it, into something else it will transform. (...)