-> I want to fly high -- the elite

But my wings are clipped.

And so I ask myself, why not give it a go. It will give me 'something to do'. Perhaps this club of elitisms shall be the rope for my ladder which I attempt to build. The use of the ladder? To release me from my spiked metal cage that lies at the bottom of a bottomless pit. For long have I searched for the key to the cage - and found it. Here. But now I must find the furthur ingredients shall I wish to move higher. The rope - as I earlier said - I believe is here. The wood, if I am right, is buried in the art of acceptance. But one thing leads to another. Could my acceptance within this selected place help with my impressions for the astroligical haven of Stonehenge? And although I am no nobleman - I so think the answer would point in the direction that I am correct. The question I really want to know remains unanswered. That was just the prologue. How do I prove myself? Do I become undefeatable warrior, respected... or simply 'liked'? Such a quizzical matter. I strive hard for my prize but when do I begin? Mayhap I sit on the wrong side - for I am no one, not even a servant to my ever so dear queen valiente. Just a humble equine attempted to show my qualities, if any. But allow me to halt my ramblings and continue with actions of which, perhaps, will serve to entertain furthur than my thoughts.

Confident ingression is brought into dwellings of few selected ungulate who prove fit for rank. Chromastic colossal mammoth blemishs bellow loose grit with harsh stretch of excessive talons. Subversive equeas draws central civilization closer, abondoning periphery dens for less rural arena. Miscreant's intelligence begins to set loose, overwhelmed with silenced questionings. Negitive postures are deserted to hold unexistant illusion of ragality. Minutia step closes dreay gaps between destination and behind crusts of umbrage. To approach temprary selector, doubts clouding visions with foggy film screen.

� r a i � o r
I am nothing