The reality of the world really amuses me. I live in it yet i find it all hard to believe. I choose to dream of dreams where the air smells as clean as the green grass in a meadow field. The world where the billions of people live on seems not to exist. Yet this vast orb holds only myself and all the people that i choose to be present in my dream. I feel that the literature that I read of now are all but a new found way or written knowledge. Where were the times where the people who wrote were worshipped?; where it was misbelieved that one could capture a moment of the sun's rays, the flutter of a wing, the delicateness of a lady. I yearn to walk on the world that those people walked on, breathe the air that they breathed, loved the love that they felt. However, as i have said earlier, it is all but a dream. People call all these dreams fantasies, but have they forgotten that all these were once true?, and as we study the past of our kind, the 'facts' that 'excites' us, why do we ignore these FACTS? Is it because we are afraid?; or too proud? Ignorance have never served us well throughout our existence, but we still persist to live with it, leaving it to dwell in our daily lives. This stubbourn nature deprives us from appreciating the world for what it is. How I wish to wake up to the smell of musty wood after a night's rest,triggered by the musty smell of worshipped words. Yet everyday the dry perfumed world of 'luxury' greets me every sun rise.





Evil has always been blamed by the forked and hooved,
but couldn't the devil's bitch just be us?


_|_aDrE_|_