Do you have time to stick around? The true book of me is here right now, writing itself out like POW. Holy men are breaking out, away from the line. From sun to moon to sun to moon my dream does not break. So defeat is not defeat but dream and more dream and more dream. It IS just like that. Enemies all gone. I’ve none. When I realized I wanted to cry. And of course I did cry. I’ve traveled centuries for this. A voice greets me, “You don’t have to say a word more, if you don’t wanna. And if you wanna, you don’t have to say it like them. You don’t have to do it like anyone else you’ve ever met or heard of.”
“‘Who The Fuck Are You?’ You don’t have to answer. The answer is intangible, is no real answer, and the dream is not solid, and god will not bless it. But you will.”
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