Order Prednisone With No Prescription by Iliad Terra

So here's a moment in perfection, imperfectly divine... ...And as Promised, a thought in the wee hours of the night: an architect who deconstructs the universe to construct love, always questing to extract pure elixir from eternity of one -- it's nuclear and subatomic. Which gives me an idea:   Syntax -- k 'nuf said! Anyhow, WOW!:

A very long time ago an old friend stood at a precipice and faced demons and angels. There he witnessed both folly and glory crafted by man’s devise… He realized that at the end of civilization’s sad and self-absorbed twists, where culture and artifice dissolve, there’s a chasm -- no more shelters, no more delusions, no more lullabies… And so, he sacrificed himself by becoming a fiery roar in the heart of darkness… Every star, every molecule, every atom reflected his face -- his laughter, his frown, his sadness and joy shaped the universe… As he fell to his death, he was reborn as truth.  Trees and blades of grass, and a thousand songs became his legacy; clouds traced his breath, and winds soughing through unsung mountain ranges and deserts became his melody… He could no longer hide from himself… At that moment, on the tele, they were talking about war veterans returning home with PTS, another election giving hope to an embattled people, a child rescued from a burning house, the stock market crash, collapse of the mortgage industry… Outside an elderly woman was sleeping on a cold stone bench as a black town car pulled up and received a tired industrialist.  The car drove through a curtain of vapor as the street sweeper was brushing debris past the steam vent, his shadow projecting upward like a wavering giant moralist cleansing the dormant city off its ails... Nana was right, work had been left undone, and a father’s sins needed to be healed.  And so  it was that my friend's journey had finally begun… -IAT

Dearest You: A funny little word this word Truth... Where does it begin and where does it end?  In a fractured world of lost fragmented souls searching for their broken reflections, where does one find truth? Deluded, you drift aimlessly through the streets at night chasing damn ghosts and shells; a fix here, a chance there, a jab, a blow here, they all amount to the same hunger for re-ligio, don't they? So you lie and cheat, and grovel and leave your signature in the fabric of Universe for all eternity; and you weave your own demons, a web, a tapestry of deceit to enshroud you, all the while you search for the one truth. Isn't it ironic though? that you seek light with lies?  No wonder all you find are shadows and fright. -Your Friend, IAT