| Expanding the mind
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| Into regions unknown
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| Sends shivers through the body
|
| And brings the faith down
|
| Blackest travesty of hope
|
| Retraces what was once held for true
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| Abnormal grand delusions
|
| Deconstructive in their form
|
| Withhold the thought
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| In a solid cage of ice
|
| Bleak appalling sights
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| Of a world now to depraved
|
| Of its own constructive vision
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| Tries to blind
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| Shadows descend on a misty sea
|
| Where the thought was once left to roam free
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| And passion spired in its wake
|
| What comes to the travelling mind
|
| In the nameless season
|
| That bears no mark?
|
| In the grey and cold abyss of loss
|
| At a destination shunned
|
| Oh, here comes the sun again
|
| Eluding the thought at the twilight of lust
|
| Its warmth cannot be felt
|
| Born to the tyranny of the passionless at heart
|
| Its derisive ways undo the claim
|
| Of the soulful will for lust
|
| Crawling through deserted colonnades of darkest grey
|
| The nameless season takes its bitter toll
|
| Warring factions lay to rest
|
| The mind’s inherent struggle to collect
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| The moments that it cherishes
|
| And thoughts of joy and grief
|
| Winding up with a soulless epitaph of belief
|
| These words they mean so little
|
| But the fires of neglect adorn
|
| Eyes shining in the darkness
|
| Where the thought has lost its spark
|
| Do they propose the troublefree existence of the dead?
|
| Or the unbearable darkness of unbeing?
|
| In the grey and cold abyss of loss
|
| On a path not leading on
|
| The thought is struggling on its own
|
| Oh, here comes the moon to shine
|
| Eluding the sense of a warming embrace
|
| Its voice cannot be heard
|
| An object of affection can’t avoid
|
| The coldest deprivation of its light
|
| Starry skies enact the tragic mind-defect
|
| Horrid scenes appearing as blank
|
| As waters without breeze
|
| Mark the dying flame with aeons of flooding rain |