A path that
in nexus lies,
upon the quiet
horizon.
A paper plane
always
set on fire,
by its motion...
Among the passing
of times:
By blazes,
set the stones.
The sole dawn,
from forever,
together,
turned to air
once again...
It begins...
all erosion
as it melts.
Layers holding
together
my cuirass, that just
breaks
into pieces while
being taken,
in
soft silken touches
from
the breeze.
It's intoxicating,
nevertheless,
ruthless
all the same,
and relentless
evermore:
A spiral connecting
my twisted past,
and future presents.
Tongues that speak,
from simple words,
a forbidden message
that foresees
shadows again
from the meadows.
And...
Ancient Dragons
dying,
lonely,
from the sorrow
and the cold,
of hostile altitudes,
once crossing
that last
Beyond.
Shocking,
as to breathe,
two copies of
life as it
oxidates;
what's remaining
and
what's empty
once it's left.
And to keep dying
is too, trying,
to see and to
find out...
Just who and how
or which time
to know now,
in what soul,
all eventually,
will blend.
And manage
to discover
a cozy desert to
persist.
As we're all turning to
asleep.
Once blinking,
all ears awoken;
from perpetual riots,
the corruption,
misdirections,
silhouettes:
A known collection
of the same ol' fears.
Once a truth,
bland,
but surely branded,
into broken
soldiers chosen shoulders;
then reality,
perplexed,
but unprovoking...
Again arisen.
Unto the self-reflecting sea.
For us all
to sprint together
into the commotion.
And kill all locomotion.
As we drift together
into abyss.
Us brethren
all again.
Reflections of a
same prism,
all the same.
Made matter by
brothers,
of the sharpness,
derived the particles,
separating us
from afar.
Once again...
