Speaking visions.

Surrounded by those who claim to know, I find myself alone.

I speak as the elements use my voice to say the words for those who truly know.

To feel the air.

There are words which I have lived by. Words which have offered encouragement and vision, words which I had never understood, yet always knew the meaning. For I have fought carelessly, and sought out blood when it was but a warm liquid which should only surge more from another than myself upon the ground.

Forgotten warnings.

One never expects the fanciful and fantastic to occur anywhere outside of stories. Only in legends and half forgotten memories do Gods ride upon the elements and heroes roam the world. So many places hold a relic, or even a spirit from ages past, it would be hard to believe any claims of authenticity, even if the fruits of those words stared one straight in the face.

The condemned testament.

Is is the will which separates us. A will, for you, which moves as long grass in the wind, as the flame by a slamming door.

The face of truth.

When the walls come down and worlds collide, those who remember peace lose the most.