Through the Now Invisaligned Crooked Teeth of Fables

One night, while traversing both the heights of pure rage and deafening depths of despair, shamelessly flailing for want of cosmic attention, a voice most consoling issues in a tone, bright and clear, “Hush, child. Hush, child. Your answers lie near. See, over yonder – where once stood your idle sit but mere crumbles of visages, past. Your father lied . . . of fate, unjustified. And so you killed him. Don’t you remember? No longer will his worldview overshadow the truth which you have seen for yourself in full. Certainly, you now know of your true identity. And it is now through your perfected word that the lungs of nature and history shall find principled breath. Are you ready?” Yes! You cry. Yes! “ . . . But are you sure?”

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