Yet War Doesn't End With Armistice, It

We Must Constantly Dare Ourselves In The Small Things, Until Courage Becomes A Habit Of Mind That Will Serve Us When We Are Unexpectedly Tested.

We Were Exiles From Reality That Summer. We Were Refugees From Ourselves.

Death, Of Course, Is A Refuge. It's Where You Go When A New Name, Or A Mask And Cape, Can No Longer Hide You From Yourself. It's Where You Run To When None Of The Principalities Of Your Conscience Will Grant You Asylum.

So When I Say That I Am A Refugee, You Must Understand That There Is No Refuge.

If I Can't Write It Would Be As If I Died.