I notice a mahogany scent, pleasant and pleasing, and I remind myself to assert my energy forth behind the shades of the autumn semi-sunlight. The evening falls and twilight breaks even, dealing me that ambiguous forgetfulness of my inadvertent existence; how often the blur of fantasy and judgment of my own character ultimately punctures all possibilities. If we are to maintain hope in the wake of our individual personal and philosophic crises, perhaps we must consider the fortresses of conscious choice that we build to protect ourselves from hopelessness may need to be surrendered. Every belief holds a mystery and devotion, but deliverance from faith is simplicity and creative surrender. Hope and desire are self-preserving energies which protect us; we long for something to heal us in the darkness of our self-deprecation and the burdens of hopelessness. We defend our small territory of sanity and we trust that our steadfast faith will conquer all. But the spiritual straight-jacket of