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If one is a subject, then there is no doubt in the certainty of servitude, whether one’s master is personally recognizable it does not matter — a man is a slave.

If one is sovereign, willfully directed, then one is one’s own master and slave only to one’s whims — it is imperative then that your whims carry speed and action, like an arrow, unto compression.

A thesaurus isn’t a dinosaur and obligations are mandatory to put relics of an ancient and fake organism into the ground to once more draw a dark and holy oil.

The last was not for you, but consider the former and crown yourself king before one becomes the rot of ages, a pool of lifeless and listless potential