In this moment of conception the essence rings hollow. There is only what appears, and what appears is reflective of how much time you have put into losing yourself. So here you are forsaken of yourself, and here you are birthed, bloody, bathed in shadow light that falls from another begetting. For every life that lives there is another world that is shut out from the sun. So when you go forth, brother, to reclaim your beliefs, understand that there is no turning back from the wreckage of your misconceptions. There is only balance, and flow, and the knowledge of your capabilities. I don’t care how drunk you are. You can be whatever you imagine. The lines that are drawn in time trace our insecurities. The eternal everlasting infinite touch of intangibility will finger us all, and if we be given the grace to dance with it, than so shall we move, watched and written and never grasped. I hope for a time when nothing will move me except my love for everything.