In time without time wait’s the answer. It is a door engraved by dreams and it reads.

“In vas of vita est mystery of vir.”

A phrase indeed engraved in the tears of maiden dreams.

A gift of decadence made by sorrow brought by the choir of the lost.

It came by three in the dreams made by one.

The ruler of many a spire is the pea??? angel made to fall by hands that wait.

I only walk with the ashes of what was. I remember. We are not all gone.

Many wait on what they feel is right but miss the line of reasoning.

The soul waits not upon the abyss to burn. It waits on the tolling bell of the poignant.

They set fire to the dreams of those who have died by vanity, ego and anger. They walk in pride and this is the greatest crime of them all. I see them.

If one says they wake to understand the divine and forgets compassion then he is no better then what he fights and will meet the same fate. Woe is he that walks in anger for that is the greatest fool. To think without actions has a high price that leaves the soul phantasmal. Ideas alone should not be embraced. We should seek experience. If it is the divine that dispels it does not lend to judgment alone. Yet of the tongue of many the divine is the one who has last judgment. The eyes of man speak but cannot speak for another.

They fall with them and crush the dreams of the dove. Perhaps the greatest pity can be evil.

I see them. I watch them in the storm of life.

I have always had a desire of sacrifice in my spirit but not of waste.

Many think they do well but instead ever move there way towards the abyss. The end is what must be dealt with and actions should be thought out and not blamed upon anything.

They have forgotten the tongues of the lost. Things should never be taken at face value.

The actions say all.