He has heard it once,

we are primordial sound.

 

These intricacies of being.

The complexity of what's been woven, 

never knowing as we sway.

 

Pleading,

as motion threatens to leave us.

Light is to dark, as dark is to light.

 

Such maddening scenes of sacrament, 

that bellow from below. 

Those souls lost,

whom plead for redemption;

this light does not grace thee.

 

One’s realization of self,

leads ever closer to the fault of sanity.

 

Pillars of hope,

must bleed amongstthese materials 

to create our physical matter.

Vile as it may be,

you must be able to see the sun.