The occurrence of an old thought pattern coupled with the rediscovery of a teenaged idea about women. Like a flower this knowledge blossoms in my mind. The seasons put on my tally, rippen the understanding I should not have put away. The time afore was lost to a pull agianst nature. The rigid construct melts like snow on the first sign of spring. A new design enter the pattern and the 13 spokes turn a new form. A journey to the beginnig casts light on the next direction. The Hierophant moves to this, with this, and for this.
My friends on this night of reflection, I wish you to know of my dreams. The Lady of Dreams has reveiled to me a secret place. Where the grey mist protects the forest from the unrelenting sun. I feel an outcast even among you my closest friends, but I must follow the moon's pull for it is the path of the Lone Wolf.