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Who`s thoughts are these,but the insane,wrestling minds in  fevers of madness and disgust
who`s eyes are these,glowing with daylight,as it where,but otherwise,so ..lifeless..,& .dead
who`s presence is it now,that mocks every minute of existence with such cold bitterness and rage

These are not questions to be answered,but rather pondered by the weary,who`s manifold name have many mystical tell tales.One of wich is related to the nature & soul of man,the Anima Mundi.
Suppressed, as it where,in the material worlds concrete realm,& weighed down,with purpose,by the forces that govern man in their great golden temple of progress.
The love of war in the world,is not a dying love,as we love to think in our cosy soft blankets of mind on a beautiful day,
Peace is always but a short rest from the next  war,about to break out,so enjoy it when you can,i say.

Listen not to anyone who tells you anything
but listen to anyone who tells you nothing
and you will hear your own
mind & you will know
how to use it
well to serve
whatever
it is that makes
your whistle
sound


because you see
no matter where you go
no matter what you do
you will always be experiencing
you and you and you



its all about you
and the things you do

and no one can tell
you anything
that you don`t already
know about
you unless
they use some kind of magic
of course

i know people
who knows people
who have friends over
on the other side that
says they hear secrets
from a strange creature
that lives on a not so far
away island in the sea