dead can dance
in the kingdom of the blind, the one-eyed are kings
If it were within our power, beyond the reach of slavish pride. To no longer harbour grievances, behind the mask's opportunists facade. We could welcome the responsibilty like a long lost friend, and re-establish the kingdom of laughter in the dolls house once again. For time has imprisoned us in the order of our years, in the discipline of our ways and in the passing of momentary stillness we can view our chaos in motion and the subsequent collisions of fools well versed in the subtle art of slavery.   