Concrete dogmas are as fleeting as a bird. Whose nest is swept by the winds. Dreams slain for peaceful sleep. Fingers tied for smoother handcuffs. Does it spoil the child, or does it make your job easier for you? Streets ruptured for seeing the truth of someone, in between themselves. Feet stumbling, artists retreating into you. A cave, a stage, for blue men. A shaky voice had torn open a rift in the clouds.