THE WEAVE:

…Vesta writes a riddle

for Lilikoi…

"A writer can rest
at home, and dream
All kinds of things.

A writer spit out
upon the Wind,
is forced to face

his philosophies.  It is
easy, to be brave
when cozy in a dreaming

field.  A  writer in the
World, must swallow
every blade of grass

he seeded tHere,
and with belly bloated
process, the truth

of who he is,
while Word digests.
A writer Lives

for this, if he is
more than a glyph-ship.  
He calls it

Death.  Annihilation.  Dying
on the sword of his own
illusions.  But not

All writers Live."