one more vision little lamb

Staring down a long dim pipeline of thirty years, consumed with a quiet and simple dread that has no name and no words. Experiment with listening to other music; cadence of the keyboard feels strange and out of joint. That I was ever born to make a point. Saying, inside, two to go, two more visions, then you may rest, dear heart, poor little lamb, rest from the visions for a while. Won't that be nice? To see only what is now, or what could have been or could be, or how it is somewhere else, or how it isn't, or anything besides what will be. One more vision, little lamb. One more for now.

klik if you demand tedious explanations of every little thing.