There have been horrors in the world, horrors beyond our imagination But we cannot judge them or rank them by their abomination Take this idea and multiply it brew it in a pot of tea in a house where words are twisted and meanings are never what they seem Dance with these nightmares and perhaps you will find The rotting logs and croaking frogs in the swamp of the tyrants who trample over mankind. Though it is not without respect for a turtle in a dove’s nest that we ponder for an eternity. An eternity in which we weigh seasons, choices that cannot raise doubt. among robbers of snakes sailing ships beyond the edge. the edge where we can kick off ill kings and mad jesters.
