Shanzophrenia.

We are morally weak people. Getting only a smaller package of the deal,

we have abused our resistance.

We follow airy wind, which chooses to take us anywhere. And we lack stay to be ourselves.

Our true being: our soul is in debt of the AL-Mighty, is in the hands of a progressive and morally weak human. Coming across so many people all these years. I have felt disgusted over the seldom changes they inherit from time to time. Which sets to think and give the impression that they are someone else, just like a heap of drunken books falling way-wordily upon me!

I have yet to choose, of the people they are now. What should I call them? Do I know them? Are they the same of lot I found on my bookshelf? Or is it just a new section I need to know about?

Discontempt of soul. Once again my disability to see the further change in people for the worse. I am no more surprised of this cipher. the prophesy has come true, written back centuries ago in a book which is closed even in open minds! A lesser meaning derived among people of the truest of the truths.

Understand me! Understand the wind and the resistance you need. Sailed ships in loose winds are lost in depths. Never to be found again! Wit out a story there is no end. My fellowships of the kins understand the deity in the duty of your living and soul inside.

Preserve! Live! Dine in the Heavens!

Don't Besiege me my keeper. I am your soul! Mercy!

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"Arcturus! Why cant see?"

"Cause it has become my irony!"

"Son! wings set apart glide... is it you who set the fright?"

"Father! wings that i glide let me ashore to new nests that Might!"

"I am afraid son! The sun has no mercy in its light...

I will find you waxed and deprived.."

"This besiege is not the gold you want!

A goldsmiths story is in a weak plot.

Deny they went even with the fruits o the heavens!