"Is There Enough Time?"

God bless the wild child. Sometimes it's desperation that lures the moth to the flame. The sun's mimic is a portal to freedom, an all consuming need to escape. Some people claim that god has delivered them from all their human diseases. Yet, they are like the moth, fluttering hopeless and numb onto the walls in a dark room. They see no possibility for finding the light. At last... when something warm and bright begins to cast their shadow, a clamorous urge begins to rise. To be suddenly warm, to burn for the right choose one's fate...this is the soul of all living things. To misunderstand this call to live is to deny what perhaps we bury in ourselves. God bless us all.

There was a man that sang his pain in silent prayers. He hurled himself with all his might down upon the feet of all his idols. He begged for peace, for concrete words, for a materialization of a grace giving god. In time, his fading breath fell silent. He died without an answer...not one. From all his wondering came the darkness of everlasting regret, an intense knowledge of a life lived in vain. His forever will sting with all he left unsaid. Fear kept him as sick as an ancient prisoner, an always kneeling fool, a crying madman hovering by the cobblestone drain beneath the king's castle.