A subtle drink in a moment, where the sounds grow quiet in a world growing ever darker, ever more quiet as ever more heads lay themselves down on ever more pillows.
Burned long ago by the fire of future, what was is no longer.
I had a dream last night. Onw which woke me from a deepened sleep that had been started with a soft and subtle flame across the room from where I slept.
Upon the winds comes a message, not by echoes, calls or horns. A message in a language lost by those who themselves grow separate from nature itself.
The world has turned to a sad state of affairs.
Perversions are the order of the day,
Lives filtered through the lens of a lens with opinion and undue certainty mixed in.
Hardly a scrap of truth is recognized the world over anymore,
For truth has become objective views of certainty.