Thoughts of violence and passive apathy clash like titans in a world drowned in silence. Metaphors get tied up in riddles so that none may discern the truth. For if the soul is shred open and the truth finally escapes, would it not be bathed in the myths of the ages? Would there indeed be no chivalrous Knight charging his way towards glory? If you would only take the time to speak to the ashes of yesterday and allowed the lessons to break through prideful walls and exemplary business models, well you might just find your mind swimming with the possibilities. Can you not hear the wind? It calls for you.
When the reward for some is the devil to others and when the world has come full turn. Will the snow melt away to reveal the spring or will the cold never flee? Will the sun shine on in silent judgement and watch as we drift into black? Will it ever have a chance to bear witness to our end or will this disease of hate send us spinning much sooner? Questions asked before the end only ever bring the pain of knowledge. Madman or not the end result is the same and ashes will be ashes and dust will of course be dust and the world will exist only so long as you can conceive it. Can you not hear the wind? It calls for you my friend.