We can embrace love, it's not to late.
Why do we sleep, instead, with hate?
Belief requires no suspension,
To see that hell is our our invention.
We make hell real;
We stokes it's fires,
And in it's flames our hope expires.
Heaven, too, is merely our creation.
We can grant ourselves our own salvation.
All that's required is imagination.
-The Book Of Counted Sorrows