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''I am troubled mind stirred and rattled. Rattled by nothing. Troubled by tranquility. Stirred by a still sea. There are no waves, it is smooth as glass.

Then why so afraid? Why not at ease? Whats to be done if there have been no deeds? Is it the silence? Is it the peace? Who in their right mind would cower from that?

Let me ask you... whats more frightening? The sound, or the unknown thing that made the roar? What's more unnerving? The storm, or the calm before? What chills your blood? The face, or the mask that is worn?

The building suspense may break your heart, But there is still a tempest that has to start. You can shed tears, create your own rain, but the coming storm still remains. Stop. Stand. Be a man. Wait out the silence, stretch out your hand Help up a companion, meet every demand. Make use of the peace, take advantage the calm wait out the prologue, do nothing more wrong. Why tell the sick they're sick? Do you you think they don't know? Don't complain about your scrape You're obsessed with your own. You cower from nothing, they fear something real. Now, how big do your problems really feel? Self, I’m tired of you. You imagine the worst. Should lend hand to a friend, but you weep for they might leave. You think you're so useful? What would they cease to receive?

What's done is done There is still a sun. Rebuild the shelter, invite all in. maybe we'll survive when the storm begins.''

- Herman Hoyte