I receive the talking piece, aching that what I see has not yet come to pass, but it is coming. All I have right now is the practice of forgiveness— forgive . . . forgive . . . I sing in the rolling purple night of the traditions of a people who have been told there is no hope covering and know only fear in the ashes of a heart that has grown cold. Desire, I walked away from everything in life that would subdue me. I no longer need anything.