The stench of a history that is not my own still floods my nostrils.
My back is collapsing under the cross of another man's making.
I am a nomad to my own identity; mutiny of religion, culture, and creed.
Too long have my eyes feasted on the decadent violence of ancient men who carried a flag I once knew.
I lust after Redemption - if I find her, I'll be sure to introduce you.
Until then though, enjoy the comforting **** in the Garden of Eden - the brothel of ignorance.

If you wish to find me, follow the path that no feet have tread yet.
Be the first to break twigs, ground, and your heart. Break it how no one has ever broken it before.
If you wish to find me, seek out the river that holds no memory of my passage. New colours upon my soul are the only evidence required to know my world is real.
If you wish to find me, first understand that the moon is always full, the Sun only shows you the parts it is willing to let you see.

A billion fond memories of a dead man will never breathe another breath into his lungs.
This is your time. Not this life, or this year - this moment.
If you cannot hold this moment as your own, you will never find one that you can.
We are a planet full of humans waiting for another to navigate.
You don't need maps or compasses, you can even make it without a plan if you've packed a strong enough purpose.
We are the living - let us erase the heritage written in lead.
We are both the author and the protagonist - let us carve beauty over the statues of the dead.