Headed down some ample path,
faces pale or black with ash,
these desperate thoughts bottled in a flask,
while painted smiles remain a mask.
Reaching for the closest balm,
numbing us temporarily calm.
Searching for some sort of truth,
while day to day we mar the proof.
Colliding flesh, colliding views
everything a blur and acutely skewed.
Save the mind, in an inner tomb,
resurrect deadness to leave the room!
Voices whisper a suppressing gloom,
Nature hints at an opposing bloom,
Light and Dark, Sun and Moon,
intertwined by a thread of time,
waiting for the daybreak chime.
Building pressure to take down the wall,
a mind so weak left with scanty arsenal,
you....hold steady.
you....be ready.
Quiet. Hear that voice, still and small?
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