The Fated, the Powerful, and the Faithful...

Always there for the rescue. And that is the name of the game for the army of followers. Not to expect love from them, and the least one can get, is just a smile. Of all the happy tune and the solidarity of dance, it is the war dance that break the stillness of the morning silence. Of opportunities, improvement and skill, it is all theirs not others. If it is between my fortune and their ill-luck, heaven can always wait. The dare and the devil are meant for the have none and the colour blind. The eye runs wild, and the leg runs loose when seeing the golden eggs from the goose. The greetings are in the form of word bashing and tongue keeps on lashing at something not of their wish. The cry, 'let us be one, let us be together' when confronting the danger of a rebel from one's own dream. Only hands are extended for peace, when death seems to be imminent. Nevertheless, as for the fated and the faithful, they too are blessed with their army of followers. They are always there for the final rescue.