STEEL FOREST

Show Navigation

‘Tis not me that chooses when to tell the tale, but the tale itself.

Allow me my mistakes, for they heal my broken wings. Silence not my screaming soul, for I wish again to sing.

A callous rainstorm plagues this drenched and shivering soul.

I am an anachronism; a medieval teacup, an 18th century pendant in a 21st century pawnshop.

The fatal flaw in my system is that I care too much for people. Too bad that’s something I can never debug from my programming.

The key to survival and happiness is to keep an open mind and treat nothing as final.

Today’s youth are the virtual hermits and seers of our time, spreading the neo-gospel of their ideals and experiences through electronic pulses and digital streamlines. Making trends, the core soul of modern society, their slaves or masters. Converging in a confluence of minds to shape the essence of society. We are drifting in wanderlust amidst cyberspace, and there is no turning back.

Heroes are not chosen; they choose.

Rest is for the dead and struggling is for the wicked.

I am the son of a warrior and a dreamer. I am a soldier of history and change.

Dreams, like plants, take time, patience and devotion to grow.

With every beat comes a step. With every spoken word comes an advance. With every question, a path is revealed. With every answer, a conclusion is formed.

I weave the dreams you live in. You dream the lives I weave.

We afford ourselves illusions to keep ourselves afloat, amidst life unforgiving that always has us by the throat.

Step back. Breathe. Dive again.