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From the twilight, a whisper. A flicker of hope and an eternal longing for that for which must be longed for. Curious, how only the innocent may suffer, yet in the end it is only the guilty and the condemned who may save us all...the twilight fades now, but what comes before you? The shining star so bright? Nay, it is all our only that which may extinguish the darkness. Our flows strong, my light shines as the wings of an angel. The pit consumes not which may burn the ties of hatred. Fire is my companion, yet the flames tame as the sacred chariot for the crystal bindings of which may never be lost must not burn. I am the dream. The dream shared by sisters, by brothers, of the valiant and of the afraid. The dream of a future brighter than shines of dawn, yet bound to the past but never looking back. I am the wind. The wind that flows as a stream of life and of death, binding the mortal coil and yet setting it free. I am the Chrysalis. A harbor for which fantasy and reality may meet once, and yet only once. I am an allusion. I am an illusion. I'm not really here.

--The Illusionist

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