From Whom She May Concern...

To Who Concerns Him,

The Soul of One is too much for Nobody to fight for.
But fight for the Right Cause, 'cause Light dawns on the Blind
Eye drawn to the Immovable able to move bronze stumps,
Rooted in my heart of granite.

Let me your hand in mine;
Mind you,
Mine are Yours,
But like your posessor,
You neglect what your Heart and Mind adore.

Beauty lay in sloth,
And abomination in the idle;
There is a certain dehydration that occurs
when the river draws the horse to eat its bridle.
Hence, commencing under pretence is a defence for suicide;
Time has no mercy for the Fool who chooses to be Crucified.

From Whom She May Concern.