The crocodile with a porcupine on her head br sidled down to the library at a temperature of br 35 degrees, crying in abject self-pity, no water br anywhere, no swamp nearby, walking on heated br feet, a burning pavement, remembering all life br supposed to be sacred, awareness is good br br No more for this crocodile - awareness is br terrible in heat like this, being a bureaucratic br denizen of the netherworld of red-tape society br in the 21st century means no creative work, no br morality, only an ethics of serving the Moloch br of a paperless Internet society br br Smothering the soul, burying the passions, br living the life of the undead – apparently, that br is what we are, our soul lives forever, but in br physical we are only undead while in non- br physical we are truly alive – thank heaven, br I can’t wait to progress from Mother br br Earth, human society is an inter-subjective br construct aimed at suffering to cleanse our br spirit – from what I don’t know, probably the br desire to live – I am almost totally cured, br never wanting to live in physical ever again!br br Margaret Alicebr br