Cry Only For Those Who Cannot Hear You

The wind did stir the thought in kind wanting - for if she knew my soul, just a spark of it, I would be a rich man... So long this ribbon of love that flows over the rocks of age and distant torment... The gate keepers sit alone watching, waiting for the violators who dare not call mundane theirs... It is those shackles which bind misguided dreams that which make fertile ground for the barkers at the door, for what else does one need to grey the vision and dull delight? You carry the scent of the well-traveled said the withered old man - I too know your pain, that which comes from never knowing home - those of us who seek blindly that which the world cannot give - home is not a place but a thought in time and nothing more than a stop to rest your ambition... Cry only for only those who cannot hear you, for it is selfish to do otherwise and seek home in the gentle embraces of those that know you... Be kind to those who would bite you, for in doing so it will bring light to a dark path... AND Always rejoice in life - it pisses them off and helps them to see the tragic flaw of their diluted beliefs...