A Myth in Creation

It is midnight The ceiling opens up its secrets: a graveyard of massacred butterflies I do not know whether to mourn their lost innocence or their lost beauty

In the grandest scheme of things, one's position is invariably one of humility. In a sense, all conceit is an illusion derived from the relativity of perspectives.

"I'm glad to see you out in the open. Believe me, I am. To see you speak with your own voice, and make your presence felt, it gives me a certain pride. You weren't always like that. There was a time when you could only whisper, and I was lucky that you entrusted your whispers to me. I gave you my voice, and in turn you took my mind to new heights. I miss that. I miss that connection. I do not long for it to come back, I do not long for things to be the way they were, I am not foolish or selfish. But by God, I do miss that."