My Son

to those who are brave combatants, you are not my men but my son, it is honored those who are elders and who protect our holy land from our mother nature, you remain fixed on a time but what time is you, the reality opens to the imaginary the imaginary opens to infinity who are you in which door of time are you, real or innocuous; I'm your eldest and it's up to you to honor me, no matter the time the place the source but it's now or never