BY indefiniteloop

“No masters or laws or someone else’s ideals pushed down our throats would do on this journey to nowhere but deep within ourselves where sleep comes sound and easy and where mornings come early and where nights are full of lullabies sung by the cool winds thrown from the bright stars and where every day lived under the scorching sun is a reason enough to celebrate with meat and wine that tastes like a seven course banquet of kings of yore but without the stretched stress of shepherding or slaughtering sheep whose grass is not their own but masquerades as food when it is actually a loan that never can be fulfilled but only lived in tastelessness and to find yourself on such arduous and perilous journeys that have no beginnings nor ends but they do have a certain satisfaction of being alive and of serving and fueling one’s own wills and needs are only meant for warriors who fight their own selves for their own sakes and who know well too that their stories will be ever forsaken and lost within the sands of everyone else’s time and they know well too that making their own stories is what mattered most by the end of their times even if they’re labeled as fools.” —

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