Difference between revisions of "User:WRAR"
(New page: ... One snowflake drifting down a well, a well without waters, without walls, without bottom, without top. Now take away the snowflake and consider the drifting...) |
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| + | For Our Lord Sheogorath, without Whom all Thought would be linear and all Feeling would be fleeting. | ||
| + | Blessed are the Madmen, for they hold the keys to secret knowledge. | ||
| + | Blessed are the Phobic, always wary of that which would do them harm. | ||
| + | Blessed are the Obsessed, for their courses are clear. | ||
| + | Blessed are the Addicts, may they quench the thirst that never ebbs. | ||
| + | Blessed are the Murderous, for they have found beauty in the grotesque. | ||
| + | Blessed are the Firelovers, for their hearts are always warm. | ||
| + | Blessed are the Artists, for in their hands the impossible is made real. | ||
| + | Blessed are the Musicians, for in their ears they hear the music of the soul. | ||
| + | Blessed are the Sleepless, as they bask in wakeful dreaming. | ||
| + | Blessed are the Paranoid, ever-watchful for our enemies. | ||
| + | Blessed are the Visionaries, for their eyes see what might be. | ||
| + | Blessed are the Painlovers, for in their suffering, we grow stronger. | ||
| + | Blessed is the Madgod, who tricks us when we are foolish, punishes us when we are wrong, tortures us when we are unmindful, and loves us in our imperfection. | ||
| + | </poem> | ||
Latest revision as of 08:01, 16 March 2009
For Our Lord Sheogorath, without Whom all Thought would be linear and all Feeling would be fleeting.
Blessed are the Madmen, for they hold the keys to secret knowledge.
Blessed are the Phobic, always wary of that which would do them harm.
Blessed are the Obsessed, for their courses are clear.
Blessed are the Addicts, may they quench the thirst that never ebbs.
Blessed are the Murderous, for they have found beauty in the grotesque.
Blessed are the Firelovers, for their hearts are always warm.
Blessed are the Artists, for in their hands the impossible is made real.
Blessed are the Musicians, for in their ears they hear the music of the soul.
Blessed are the Sleepless, as they bask in wakeful dreaming.
Blessed are the Paranoid, ever-watchful for our enemies.
Blessed are the Visionaries, for their eyes see what might be.
Blessed are the Painlovers, for in their suffering, we grow stronger.
Blessed is the Madgod, who tricks us when we are foolish, punishes us when we are wrong, tortures us when we are unmindful, and loves us in our imperfection.
