Though this proclamation be of wasted word, inclined am I to share it. And though it falls on deaf ears, my virtue begs expression - toward not my audience, but in essence toward myself. With values different as day from night, good from evil, money from happiness, sex from love, oil from water, right from wrong - it prompts mutual destruction. I am not of passion, but passion is of me. An icy cold exterior necessary to control the boiling waters. Within me lies patience and unmatched control. Soundly I sleep for my soul be at peace with the truth. My heart be bigger than life itself, full of so much joy at times it overflows - rivers of gratitude for every breath. Every soul encountered marks me - and though I never need, time cut short before all is learned distresses me. I am destined to wander through this life with not another soul that matches mine, and with this I am at peace. Solitude be where I find solace. Quiet be where I hear. In the night this knowledge begets arrogance. A constant struggle to be true to myself. A mastery of evil learned young, an ease that came naturally. For what challenge me not, be at my disposal. And for this experience, I choose the truth, the light. The righteous and virtuous mountain be the highest to climb, the hills of hate surrounding. And at the top, I look to my brother and say, I have conquered nothing - for it is not a destination. It be not the end, but the beginning. Our life be not over when we die. The mother will use our energy for herself, giving us eternity. Through the burden of introspection I gain the blessing of understanding, for those around me now be transparent. Their words do not communicate with me, their energy does.