One day perhaps the walls will come crashing down and who then will rebuild the world with a new template? Not I, for the sands of time will descend on my thoughts, cease the clockwork of a troubled heart and lock me away for a trillion years or more. Till I am called awake again in a new place where the world is not how I remember it.

I set my feet now on a path that I know I cannot walk and ever the knowledge of this haunts the shadows that lie in-between the light of a new dawn and sets the journey to the final third of a life less commonplace, yet equally mundane and dull as all others. If hope is a star that I can pluck from the heavens it is now so far from reach it remains a solitary, hidden, golden grain on a black, sand beach.

But it is not this day that sends an autumn mist to layer and wreathe around the fallen armies of leaves littering a new path that I must walk. Like a child first entering school a new chapter begins and the spectre of change stifles any eager thoughts of brightness. For the world is a blunt instrument that bludgeons us with careful hammer blows of rhetoric and needful reminders that if owning animals is slavery; then what of our fellow man?