Loire: the current of the longest river. Imperial lights of the new century. The belongings of the nations. A claim to or for what is right. The miserable people. Exclamations of unhappiness not heard because of the greater goal explained. Everyone forgives and the youth of this culture relaxes in the tumult of love. Haze of emotions. Throngs of the future, disgruntled by and reluctant to condone the past that had created them. We all love someone, or we all love something, either way we are able to sleep through the night. Somehow we are able to forgive this love or forgive ourselves for feeling a certain way. The earth recalls all things. At least every action is processed. So with your individualism being expanded, the earth turning around as always; how did you expect to be free? Our planet is a captive too. Despairing over our sins, the earth is an ocean of tears somewhat condensed; salvation is but a concept, and the wicked have their thoughts too.