Time moves forward, and I find myself to be stomping my feet in this very non-neutral way. Exuberant towards change and marching forth without decadence to hold me down. As the struggle protrudes, I find the misgivings to be now, shone with light. Cleansed like the white feather that lands on your shoulder on the worst of the bad days, only to remind you that Angels are near. Heavenly opulence, with minimalistic woes. Spirit of the Eye. I keep my sanctum Divine.