XXX

SOMETHING SCREAMS INSIDE of me; what is that voice that I hear?
IT SPEAKS OF knowledge; it craves the unknowable; it dreams for the undreamable.
ARCANE ARE ITS wishes, untouchable its desire. The voice churns on a mellowed level, bellowing with a whisper that is all too often ignored. But today, today I have heard the voice, and in it I see the philosophy of a child; in its words I taste the purest hope, the hope of the innocent. And so, I know that this voice, this child, is within me and is wishing to be heard, so I must give it my justice, my virtue, my honor as the man he wished not to become.
PURE IS THE voice. Honest, if honestly foolish, but proud with its honor. The purity of the entire universe, all things powerful and all things subtly so, creep through the voice of the child. It is a taste of desire, and with this taste I must taste more, and with this new taste I must swallow, and the desire and I shall become one and the same, a new being and a new mind, molding into one. The next step is in my sights, like that point on the horizon from the center of creation where plains were all I saw, and this point, this blinding bright luminosity, it feels like home. The home of the child within, not to be unseen.