How many words can you fit in a lifetime to sound off the passions that sparkle your gist

There must be a rip somewhere in the space-time continuum through which a different reality, eerily similar but evidently different seeps through.

You’ll be pulled in the wake of the truth future brings, where the ghost of reality waits in the wings.

I’m too tired for insight, too strong for solace, too clear for words, too resonant for silence, too old for wonder, too lucid.

I could buy the story that the world is wicked, that mankind is desperate and alone.