Walking along the path, clutching on to the sword of eternal power, holding the sheath that would once become the love that never became, that is the story of it all, the story that troubles every man deemed worthy by himself and his peers in the circling universe of emotions and perceptions, the perceptions that become nothing more than a word in the sands of time, washed away by the endless additions to the galaxy of accusations and allegations. But I ask this, young lass, be it what it may, will we have any of it were it nothing at all?