To speak such words that rise above the clouds and ride on unbroken waterfalls of the sun is not madness, it is the privileges of the poet.

The hearing of these words will continue to be indulgent and available for the narcissist as he, ever self deprecating, will use his ears to spread his ways to the reality of others.

The night, beautiful and cold, will give way to the heat and excitement of the midday. This mundane celestial event is as beautiful as the mourning star, yet even of more importance to the universe we are a part of. The white dwarf will crumble,  ingest itself and shift towards a entirely original form of being.

The red dawn of this day will be seen over the span of a millennia and appreciated by unspoken words that mean so much to us all.

My wayward ears, finely in tune to the depths of suffering, will abandon all my hopes and dreams to make this world a better place, not for me but as a social agreement as a capable member of this great society.

It is my word and I am a man of honor. Tried and true, weighed and measured.