If you think I'm getting a little Dean dementia, rate accordingly. But this is my way of coping with the stress of the vile, vicious weeks before the primary which seek to destroy our candidate. So here's a little poem I wrote for Dean:
"There stems from you a faith
more radiant than any human hope.
Its rootwork tangled endless with the common earth -
Its vines that climbed and cracked the temple walls -
And when lost within the blackness
That your hands brought to your face
Its flowers, like a million voices,
sing their hymn of calm conviction...
One morning gray, with morning spilt,
You will - I know this - stand firm amidst the ebb-tide of this ruined age
And in a roaring wave of light, flanked by
the white, eternal boughs of that faith,
Quiet, humble and without answers - as any honest man -
You will bow and wonder at the beauty of it all. "
(Also, I've been dirnking)