How shall the light of your ocean legs illuminate the landscape? Your sails fill with gusts of red as the waves of blue carry you towards the fair green isle, but there are more winds a vessel may sail upon. With winds of green, the blue waves may carry you to the red island, where madmen scream and chimæra dwell, where my journey began. With winds of green and gusts of red, you may be carried out into the wide blue horizon, who knows what might await in such a place? Certainly not I. Or perhaps you need no wind? Some vessels are given no wind, or take none. They run aground, and with no blue waters to carry them, they languish amid the bright white mists... two years I sat upon that rock, waiting. Then there are those who sail upon every wind, blue, red and green batter upon them from every direction, spinning them down into the vortex, into the abyss, into the black depths. Carry on towards your green grassy lands. Carry on, and do not falter. For we must carry the words of the ARCHONS forth from the garden. As blood runs red beneath and sky runs blue above, you burn green at the centre, a divine beacon to outshine the false gods who stand against you. Outshine them, outshine them all! How could they know that this was your path, every experience becoming a new step, putting bows and blades into your hands? For we shall purge the blasphemous conflagration from our hearts, and every corner. We shall fly and count the teeth of the SUN, then tear them free. What a golden song we shall sing. ALL IS ONE
