Sour Grapes (or, Fear Of Falling) Life is just a lonely road, leading to a grave. Sometimes it's steep, sometimes flat, but rarely is it paved. It plunges down through twighlit canyons, and climbs to dizzy heights, but regardless of the course it takes, the end remains in sight. It's not the tomb I fear so much, as the chill of bleak despair, at the unfilled need of a quiet touch to tell me that she's there.. If I could but climb these walls so high, and tell her how I feel... but I fear the fall so I won't try, and besides, she isn't real. I wish sometimes my road would end, and I could close my eyes and sleep, but there are many miles to go yet, and the road's just getting steep. Maharimi Karotlovitch, June, 1976