The Seasons Inure Us To Loss

The seasons inure us to loss whether a vote of confidence or no confidence we are neither more nor less in our hearts and souls. We are still whole, history forgets our story but immortalizes us, nothing is annulled. Today's board vote affects my livelihood how and what I hunt and gather, money, but not whether I live or die. That's God's and luck's neighborhood. I like capitalizing God although I don't believe and can't imagine an intelligence managing or wanting to manage this interface of rock and flesh, fire and sod. The Knowledge tells us how to rebuild after an apocalypse, not let the circle lapse, outlast the holocaust. I have no vantage from ridges I ascend Cercocarpus, turbinella, dry and hot places worry, planning, thought stop. May they inure me to my end.