The chains of perception sing the song of solitude. The chant echoes as a tribute to the tribe of objectivity. The trap is set. A spell of subjectivity is cast upon those who desire to control the silent through our melodic senses; stating it is objective by using our treacherous minds to build an empire out of dust. Can you feel how power becomes the powder that stings our owned sight? Chained to a headache I am as I am informed of my limits through perception. My buzzing shout denounces my lack of freedom as I cry the dazzling song of frustration. Let me go! So much sorrow cannot be contained in a song of perpetual confinement. I mask my pain, marking my blindness with spots of faith. I walk toward the wall until perception shakes my head… No! Is it all dead ended? It is my precept to sing until I find the truth. Is there such truth? Imagination precedes perception, creation precedes imagination, love precedes creation, all proceeds from love, love seeds all; all seeds love, love feeds creation, imagination feeds us, perception feeds imagination as a loop . Deep in the forest of wills as a mill in a rotational infinity . As a loop it can exist because infinity exists in buds of chains. If infinity exists, then… Can I challenge the wall of despair by confronting perception with my imagination? Can I defy imagination by loving creation? Can I deal with it all by being love? Who is it who loves? Who am I as I love? Where is the wall if I am the wall? What are my limits if I am a loop? What is infinity if I am limitless? Who am I? Silence. No more shouting. I am aware.