Hate Is A Dead Thing. Who Of

We Are Limited, Not By Our Abilities, But By Our Vision.

I Am A Poet Who Composes What Life Proses, And Who Proses What Life Composes.

Behold, I Have Reached The Peak Of The Mountain And My Spirit Has Taken Flight In The Heavens Of Freedom And Liberation. I Have Gone Far, Far Away, O Children Of My Mother; The Hills Beyond The Mists Are Now Hidden From My View, The Last Traces Of The Valleys Have Been Flooded By The Ocean Of Serenity, And The Paths And Trails Have Been Erased By The Hand Of Oblivion. The Roar Of Ocean Waves Has Faded. I No Longer Hear Anything But The Anthem Of Eternity, Which Harmonizes With The Spirit.

Why Dispute What We Shall Be, When We Know Not Even What We Are.

Hell Is Not In Torture; Hell Is In An Empty Heart.