Idealism boards its boat and sails out to the ocean and its middle reach. Out as far as it will dare it takes its detached opportunity to yell its prayers back at the beach.
"Wouldn't it be better, if things were just [x] way?"
"The problem is that we're [here] when we should be [there]."
Both bare and shoed feet fist up the sand and shout shout, shout back -- They shout back,
"In the mid, your world is gold. Here on the land, everyone's stomping toes. On purpose. On accident. It happens. **** happens. As far as living goes, reality just is. So, sink with your conviction. We challenge form, train adaptability. Super humans laughing up from the tar. We've come so far. We've come so very far.