Be bold. Be courageous against that frost bitten spirit, who routinely taps against the window of your heart. Be watchful of martyrs and messiahs. Be a misfit. Reclaim your birthright, scapegoat soldier, horned grunge beetle, pirate of the astral seas. Sovereignty is won and won again. Make deep oaths on your own, bury them black, fill them with meaning to you and you alone. Every hermit is a farmer, every farmer a warrior. Hold steady your sword. Use it in their astral beds. When would-be preachers play make-pretend. Take the tiny hand of the ever-ready student and know its matryoshka doll truths. Find the winding serpent, see its home nestled in the lotus flower, let it bloom bright colors, true blue and fire orange and flashing cinereous. Pity the devils need to bare clanking, clamoring chains. Turn West and embrace the dark. Let Mystery sit on her gold and glowing throne. Let her hold you there in reverence. Let the matter of ages swirl crisp atoms, filling vibrant astral roadways with electric meaning. Promise the inn-keeper within that you’ll live. Live now. Live today. Live always, in neon metal, pedestal parodies that wash wave upon wave of mapless imagination your way. This, my ode to you, delphinium dreamer, bellwether baker, supreme winner of sovereignty.