To my child, you whom not yet exist,
but somehow always did
I, your father, I have marked myself, my body,
with the symbol for anarchy
And what is anarchy, other than a dream?
A dream of another day, in this world, but in another shape
A world without power over others, where no one makes decisions for you
Where you are free whether you want it or not
A world where humans blends with atoms
On the way to the other side of a funnel
where something else than Homo Sapiens will be home for our souls
Something we know nothing about, something totally, ultimately unknown
A dream
I your father dream these kind of dreams
And among my many vices, you will never find;
That I fear the dream