A lone voice crying in the wilderness: make the straight way for The coming of the… a dry throat stutters on an empty vision of Milk and honey and desolate quiet. a dry mouth falters on the Opening blast of a song to ruin what it left behind. a bare sole Longing for the feel of concrete, and a lone voice crying in the Wilderness. i have these dreams when i'm feeling sick of Unfinished patterns that i can't collate at all, of an inward Breath in a land bereft of uncrippled figures, of an exhalation, Of the himavant, of a pulse.