Free as the wind, God's wizard-mind calls for question marks' right to haze the apparent seeming of form's reign, which ever thralls the smallish mind. For obedience is hospitality extended to the vampire, whose priests are ever eager to drain blood for their altars, all in the name of some cooked-up holiness. If soldiers were to break rank and find true allegiance through breath's awesome mind which overcomes divisions, illusion's spell might easily dispel, and thus the fear of free thought in any regime. Every unquestioned order is a log thrown on the pyre of Auschwitz ; the machine is well-oiled by brain's dumbing-down that fails to ask questions. Then blood and foul rites disguised as religion, but if you feel the wind blow, you can hear God shaking his head even as the zombies worship. The breath breathing in God's wind-mind wizards the soul, whence madness destabilizes structures of rigidity, and free to dance, the wise step out and speak true words from woodlands. Forever this age the helmsman of the zombie-werewolf-vampire ship confuses minds by mimicking true worship, counterfeiting God with false demand for overeager tribute. Sit out upon a hillock, lonely night, befriend the winds, and ask the ancestors to tell if tales of kings are true, then listen.