"And allow yourself to boldly declare:
“Our fetters are patterns thought here,
I’ll not ritually repeat a habitual gene
Predicting my action, nor repeat despair
Again and again. I’m heir
To my own thoughts; an intended scene
On which change is possible and aware.
We choose the chains which lash us here;
Our very thoughts the prisoning routine,
So I face into the windy air
And change my mind to follow my own prayer.”
"There is no reality as true as
memory's creative spun tapestry."
"And my answer at the fallen world,
Is to take itself upon its own shoulders,
Wake up and die,
Cause rebirth is silence,
Rebirth is gold,
Just waiting for a release
from the pressure of all our feet."