If all the world would tremble, and silence would be no more, only one soul would hear the rap upon the door. With rushing winds and gusting tides there is no reasons, or compromise as heaven’s defeat does blaze across the midnight skies. Eternal conundrum of blasphemy, of blurred prophecy that speaks to no ears willing to listen. Forgiven for not what has transpired, but what will occur in the churning wheel that holds all fortunes. Given fate’s demand , the will on a whim. A branch stretched into the darkness that whispers eerie promises of eternal light. A masterful flight into the ever evolving eternity that hungers for every drop that over flows into the abyss of our brewing lives. Mystical, magical, manipulating games of the mind and soul; dream, scheme , but always scream for the edge has only just risen above the ash and soot.