We are responding to our trauma, to our being used as an instrument. We do not leave the battlefield unscarred. Their blood is upon our shoulders, as we piled the dead high up to heaven. We didn’t know what we were doing. It took me seven years of living with you before I really understood what was happening. It was like I stepped out of a very thick fog. The sunlight shone down upon me for the very first time and I heard angels singing my name. I sat down and mapped it all out, how everything should be done, what words should be said and the way the movements should work together. I could only do what I could do. I could only be the man that I am. I knew and felt that this was my salvation. There was no turning back now, I had burned the bridges behind me and had left a trail of dead bodies. The evidence was mounting against me, but I was still free. They would never find me. I had changed shapes and had been transformed into a new being. They were looking for the old me that was long gone and dead. They were looking for a worm, when I had become a butterfly. The old man had to be killed off, so that the new man could come forward. The old man was left in the darkness as the new man stepped into the light. The new man took the lead; he dove off the deep end. The new man was operating on instincts alone; he follows his impulses, following his heart or his guts. The new man shuts off the clatter of the mind and moves forward into the light of life. The new man acts instead of reacts. He cuts a new path through the jungle. The new man starts his own wars and fights his own fights. He finds another means of expression, an heightened one, struggling to bring out that which is unknown. The old man focuses on that which is known, when the new man focuses on the unknown, the hidden, and the occult.