...perchance to dream a Dream of a Thousand Castles in the Bold Aire, each with a Thousand Windows, opened by unseen hands and illuminating Satan's Wretched Creatures of the Dawn sprawled across the lawn spawned in Pathos and doomed to loathsome bedevilment Begone begone thy foul and wretched excess, thy wanton and vile excrement is upon thine heart, why doth thou torment so?
...make fast thyself to the Wings of Light and cast away thy Earthly bonds, to soar upon the Solar Breeze, breathless and coy...
...we are Prisoners of our own Design, reigning over a desolate landscape of broken Dreams and pitiful Aspirations. We plunder our childhood and awaken at Death's Door wondering of the Child we were and beholding a frail and gaunt form that can no longer see the Innocence and Beauty. It is but a short journey from the forceps to the stone, fraught with Horror and unspeakable Terror. Why then must we be left to such impotent devices floundering like carp?
...ah yes, to slumber and dream the Dream of the Dead. To awaken renewed, at one with the ties that bind as The Heart is to the Hunter, home from the hill home from the sea...
...so verily I say unto thee Grasshopper, so thy may know and see thy Path. Go forth into the Sweet Night and tread softly upon it's still waters. Open thine eyes and thy will see what thy need is all around thee and what thy want thy cannot have. If thy sow Ice, thy shall harvest Wind. Strive to shed thy Morbid Concerns and thy will find thyself Righteous and Wholesome.
Verily...
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