He held a candlestick,
He lit it with splintered pine,
Once an invisible figure,
Now a figure with an outline.
...
They sacrifice their blood for the reliability of a myth,
The crimson fluid of their childrens',
And it will suffice for the respective gift,
It's tradition propelled by the purpose.
...
Jaggered footsteps crushed dead grass,
Seen this place before.
Smelt it, heared it, breathed it and sensed it,
Now encountered once more.
...
I thought I do think more oft than not,
But yet I do drink,
It is then I possess a frightening one,
With the inability to think.
...
Ah, but these photographs,
So unbelievable, demonstrates purity.
Yes, but I edited them, changed them, enhanced them...
They were never quite so pretty before.
...
We are all human, and all shall suffer.
When we think, it's rather we try not to,
And when we do think, it's then that life presents itself.
Not that we can see the ugliness, it's rather that ugliness is felt.
...
Far fetched is the creation of humanity,
The magic once real, now gone.
How our species occupy the ball,
and how the ball caters for the strong.
...
In frustration,
This heat was thawing his chilled speech.
For far too long,
He imagined he'd eventually thaw the words,
...
I look up to the long-haired preachers of their kind,
In my vain attempt to comprehend their dialogue - deep as your darkest secret, the person you really are, the one that you hide.
I wrap their creativity around me like the discolouration of my bones,
For I long to activate myself, the one that crystalised through a darkened period of darkest times.
...