Wingmakers Philosophy

Always must it be inside of me like a pilot fish inseparable from its host.

It fearlessly drinks my essence.

Such a bitter taste I muse.

Spit it out upon your table of perfection.

Compare this grain of sand with your galaxy.

This spire of sorrow with your deepest eye.

If my callous mind can see you, there are no interventions.

No pathway away.

Convergence.

I am a lock-picker.

A tunnel-digger.

A fence-cutter of the wicked watchers.

A traveler that has sought the mystery that eludes all but the outlaws.

The wild-eyed, unrelenting fools of purpose that remain outside the laboratory of wingless flight.

You are the eternal Watcher who lives behind the veil of form and comprehension, drawing forth the wisdom of time from the well of planets.

You cast your spell and entrain all that I am.

Am I just a fragment of your world?

A memory hidden by time?

A finger of your hand driven by a mind