Don't Let The Old Story Repeat Itself

I Saw The Light,saw The Myriad Spirits Flying Loose Up The Tunnel Towards The Celestial Blaze, The Tunnel Perfectly Round And Widening As They Rose And For One Blessed Moment, One Blessed Tiny Instant, The Songs Of Heaven Resounded Down The Tunnel As If Its Curves Were Not Made Of Wind But Of Something Solid That Could Echo These Ethereal Songs, And Their Organized Rhythm, Their Heartbreaking Beauty Piercing The Catastrophic Suffering Of This Place-lestat

The Prince Is Never Going To Come. Everyone Knows That; And Maybe Sleeping Beauty's Dead.

Once I Returned To The Church And Began To See The Universe As A Place That Really Did Incorporate Redemption And Really Tried To Understand The Implications Of There Being A God, My Identification With The Vampires As Outcasts, As Outsiders And Lost Souls Began To Totally Wane. It No Longer Worked For Me. I Had Done It. It Had Led Me To This Point.

I Like To Read Things I've Read Before. It's Like Listening Over And Over To Your Favorite Song.

I Am An Unwilling Devil. I Cry Like Some Vagrant Child. I Want To Go Home.