This hand, offered in friendship, yet, rejected at every turn by a heart that lives in shadow, and does naught but ‘fret and yearn for a love that is so far from reach as long as ignorance reigns among kings, sheds the darkness o’er his heart and blankets all his dreams. The worst, most dangerous notion in the midst of all of this... is that a willing victim won’t stand up and break this mantle made of chains that bind him in essence to all that is darkness and veiled - coiled and scaled he hides in his own piece of shadow; his recess of nightmare’s way, perhaps wishing a different decision it was, that he made in the past, on that day. Now sitting alone, with everything he needs, in material time and material deeds, he has made a friend of the pretense that protects the fragility of the child within. In the din of echoes wild in the canyons of heart’s soul - he feels old; and, deep inside, in this place that he hides, he fools not himself about lost dreams - for there truly must be a place in this world where he would be accepted in his ignorance, among kings.