Don’t go along

In the course of the fight so dark and the motionlessness so dark, the terror blinding my realm, I arose from the winged lions of the harvest to the cold cry of the anemone. I came to the world in the deformity of the chains of each being. We made ourselves both free. I drew from a compatible morality irreproachable help. Despite my thirst to disappear, I was prodigal in waiting, my faith valiant. Without giving up.

René Char