You are the frame upon which my grand designs shall be built.

 

A fool views infinity as darkness that stretches to the ends of sanity. But, the intellectual sees it as endless seas of possiblity.

 

Starchild, you shall be the host of my effulgent architecture. The ruins of your mind shall hold the great structures of my desires--the citadels of sorrows and the asherah poles that uphold my herculean ideals.

 

But, the lump must die for the true will to be made complete.