The last flower is gone, but somewhere its seed remains, and when the seed is gone, its flower will remain. I suppose nothing is whole unto itself. We are all just vehicles, and life moves through us.
Hey… footsteps in the snow. I wonder where they’re going? Maybe I’ll follow them. Doo dee doo dee dee, dee dee dee dee doo… hey, what’s this? No more footsteps. I wonder what happened to the person who was making them? How can a person just vanish like that, and make no more tracks? Hmmm, maybe I’d better go see Harlan, and make sure he’s alright.