Hither go there.
Hither go there man.
Come look through that filthy window we made.
At the signalman waving his lantern.
There be a place we cannot see, but they see us, with a society larger than ours, that is very concerned with what we do.
The two sides at war, with a sea of races and species, they see.
They have rank and generals and footmen, making the universe tick, according to its Maker.
And if we do right, we will take the places of the fallen, not as Angels, but as Honored Men.
They have the upper hand, they can see both places with clearer minds, decided minds, greater minds than ours, minds that guide our end.
And we lumber around in the dark, with our hands out in front of us, feeling around, unsure of who we are, or where we are, because it hasn't been decided yet.
But we have one great advantage.
What we do here, still gains merit.
Before we go.
Over There.
And there be many good and dreadful places over there.
So soldiers go above the smog, and into the clouds.
And be shrewd, be fools in this world, take that small hard road there, because it opens into a garden.
But avoid the ease of the highway, because there be monsters there!
Go that small road my brothers.
Heed my prayer and hither go there.
Hither go there man.
Hither go there.
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