beggar a thimble in time Below the beggar sleeps the burning earth, And below the brown dirt lie our rotting bones. Above the ground, infinite monuments glorify mirth and madness; moments of sublime perfection, ages of chaos and ashes; Times when fact and fiction bled into one. Therefore, to the smartest of men I ask one thing: Let Man keep his dreams; Don’t ever remove the impossible from his hands. 030615 what's it to you? who go blather from