Our world is doing fine. My last hope is that with my death I may pass into the world of my dream

Our world is doing fine. My last hope is that with my death I may pass into the world of my dream, and know peace at last. There is unrest in the Forest. There is trouble in the Forest, and the creatures all have fled, as the Maples scream 'Oppression!' and the Oaks, just shake their heads. We've taken care of everything, the words you read, the songs you sing, the pictures that give pleasure to your eye. It's really just a question of your honesty. Instead of praise, sullen dismissal. What can this thing be that I found? 

As a mad immortal man, nevermore shall I return, escape these caves of ice, for I have dined on honey dew and drunk the milk of Paradise. Off on your way, hit the open road. Time and Man alone searching for the lost - Xanadu - to stand within The Pleasure Dome. I can't wait to share this new wonder. Living in the Limelight the universal dream for those who wish to seem. Race back to the farm to dream with my uncle at the fireside... Let them all make their own music. I had no idea what it might be, but it was beautiful. 

Jump to the ground as the Turbo slows to cross the borderline. An oracle confronts me there. Begin the day with a friendly voice. Now there's no more Oak oppression for they passed a noble law, and the trees are all kept equal by hatchet, axe, and saw... These things just can't be true. Go screaming through the valley as another joins the chase. Always hopeful, yet discontent, he knows changes aren't permanent - but change is. I have always been awed by them, to think that every single facet of every life is regulated and directed from within! 

Just think of what my life might be in a world like I have seen. A thousand years have come and gone but time has passed me by. Father Brown rose to his feet, and his somnolent voice echoed throughout the silent Temple Hall. The trouble with the Maples (and they're quite convinced they're right), they say the Oaks are just too lofty and they grab up all the light. I see still the incredible beauty of the sculptured cities, and the pure spirit of man revealed in the lives and works of this world. Clearly yet I see the beckoning hand of the oracle as he stood at the summit of the staircase. No, his mind is not for rent to any god or government. Subdivisions - in the high school halls, in the shopping malls, conform or be cast out. 

My spirits are low. In the depths of despair, my lifeblood spills over... See how it sings like a sad heart and joyously screams out its pain. Well-weathered leather, hot metal and oil, the scented country air. Home to tear the Temples down. Home to change. We have no need for ancient ways. There is magic at your fingers for the Spirit ever lingers dndemanding contact on your happy solitude. I saw now how meaningless life had become with the loss of all these things... To find the sacred river Alph, to walk the caves of ice.

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