ThE hOlY bOoK oF rAnDoM RaMbLiNgS

Some cold night

When the wind is cursing in whispers

And the moon winks through the fog

Standing under an old, rickety streetlamp

You might just realize

That somewhere deep inside

Out of the reach of cosmos

We are all

Tremendously

Monumentally

Massively

Alone

And then you will be

Free...