Found out as my own fool. Laughing when things get serious, the clown reveals sleeves full of fake flowers and funny faced encouragement. Pulling rabbits and painted scarves from a hat way too large for simple cranium. Piecing together the ramblings and testimony of a man who has no conscience of the road ahead, never mind the road behind.

What does a man say to himself when he realizes his own vapid activity? Where nothing is lost because it was never found. Where darkness is simply an aid to conceal the lack of light in the cage of hopelessness. What does a prince of an imaginary kingdom proclaim to keep his subjects from the knowledge of his lack of talent, purpose and worthy thought?

Who are dreamers if not men who have no capacity at rational concept who then venture into the land of the imaginary campaign? What caution is spoken when dangers are ill perceived and timing is absent at the outset and the ending? What does a man say when the only phrases available are filled of folly and ridiculousness? Sans destination.

To what bank of fortunate memories is he led to find the experiences and epistemology requisite to recovery, endurance and triumph over difficulty? Are dumb men as myself doomed to repeat their babbling brook of nonsense indefinitely for all the tribe of worthy men to see? What trees may be felled to feed the dying and unsurveilled? What bait may be offered to lure those seeking the honey sweet kindness of a man absent understanding?

From the ridiculous to false pious you vacillate. Hoping by chance to rest upon virtue or character. Finding nothing in the coffers of honor and density, you spout vapor and dust. What is achieved in the lengthy day of unshod attempts at trail navigation? Each slip reminder, each failed footing bringing the party closer to descent. What is found with no knowledge of that which could possibly have been lost in the first place?