I've seen him cry a million times. This poor boy, who will never be a man. An adolescent filled with rage. A boy who could not fight back. A broken teen who escaped into oblivion. All the same child I cannot save.
The 4th dimension is one of the most esoteric and misunderstood of the Arcana. Time is the ultimate equalizer, the adversary that man will never conquer.
And so I am overcome with futility. After peering through the depths of the never-ending river of time, there is no eddy, no tributary to dam, no defining whirlpool to disrupt, that will change the inevitable.
Maybe Doctor Who is a sign that the simplest principles of Arcana are seeping into the subconscious of sleepers. Maybe the death of innocence is the harbinger of hope. If this is true, than wisdom is the most confusing of virtues. The most contrary of truths. For if the sacrifice of innocence carries in it a kernel of
truth, than the price is too high.
I feel powerless. The master tell me that truth is a concept, not a destination. But at what point to we stop allowing all possibilities and accept that right and wrong are real things?
Screaming Trees
Libertine Dreamspeaker on the path of Thistle
