The hero's last words

A succesful ramble requires deep thought about nothing, for in nothing we create something.
To ponder outwards about the inwards takes more madness than time, and the only holding back we get is from our self's.
My self contains pride and anger, hunger for wisdom, and longing for love.
So I am held back by pride.
I tell myself that I am am worthy of being proud and that I stand aloft of men and women.
I am held back by anger.
I allow emotional anger to underwhelm me when I need the anger of a fierce lion to break through the barriers of self restraint.
I am holding myself back with a longing for used wisdom, all the old wisdom's of the world attracting me to them like a magnet. Each one though a used up schism of past wisdom.
And my love of how I hate to love.
Myself cannot teach me the ways of love, I must learn them from another woman's self. But first I must learn to love my self without pride, passion and vanity.

I once dreamt a swan came dancing across the lake, she had a reed in her mouth which she passed out to me.
I held that reed and wondered about that swan.
I walked away from the pond and sentenced a man to death, I was a judge in the courts of law at that time. When I woke up I looked out across from the bench I was sleeping on and watched as a well suited gentleman fed bread to the ducks before taking a gun out of his pocket and shooting himself in the head.

How do you create if you don't wake up from this eternal dream?
You create with experience of nothing....