I close the temple doors and let my fancy flow – fanciful yes – but not out of control, only enough to nurture the seeds I’ve sown, only enough to marvel at my demons – grown – I am their king and they are my minions, I give them knowledge, they give their opinions, I free them to dance and worship as they please – although their hunger I could never appease – and then the bells ring and I walk into the light – making sure that my demons rest up for the night – but fear not, if you step to me with anger half-cocked, you’ll find the doors to my demons are always unlocked.



Painting our illusions in 108 words a day. 


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