please

dust gives way to truth. truth not universal maybe. but truth percived. truth lived. truth remembered.

maybe the hope is to transfer hopes lost, and yearnings into that head. that strange head with a billion secrets. The goal but, can never be reached, even for its triviality, it is a prodox in itself. only prayer and hope can maybe help.

what do you do when the thoughts you have impugn the privacy,life of your only confidant?