Turning on Dionysus
The winds have come. Blustering the dark night, fallen early, to chase away the silent anger of our character. Not made of stone as the later man, he brings joy and solace to those he sees suffering. The stage has transcended, as a woman in mad- ness clings in sanity to the turning trees. The winds attempt with all their mighty force to arrest the actions of this dry soul, failing in all desperation that leave one whisper, one whistling breath to close the curtains on the sorrowful night.How is this possible? This action? Has she no fear of wrath? Challenging the gods with a betrayal of her integrity moves she forward. This is evil. I offer this name now, as I must. Truth has been driven to place the dead and light no longer seeps through the cracks of lies. Is this our arrival? No..
I implore, the bird who flies and sees all, I implore. It is an earthly creature that may provide remedy. Name the truth and it will be yours for the keeping. Name the truth and tell man that it exists, tell it so all may understand and decide.
Without this, without hope, we are doomed, every one of us.
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