God alone witnesses the atrocities that befall us in the morning a brilliance where language has both sanctified and scattered us. I kneel on feeble masses that rive us apart, only the echo of drowning in the vacuous waters of four-letter words. Only my subsequent breath can see for I am bewildered by the premixed potion of unknowing and seeking. I wrap and warp my brain forever around knowing and eternal answers, only to be charred by the ashes of the highest conjugations. I never asked for such fine wine of language though it is an enduring taste, it is not for all and yet we drink it all the same.