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My body forged with molten iron

Feet feel fire under miles of stone

At the center of everything is darkness

In absence infinite presents

Steam rises from mental filth

Distill the caustic to useful tools

I sharpen my senses

To a coming of intent

Success the purity of motive

Zero is infinite

The solids vibrate

In the liquid’s boil

Energy is lifted

Smoke answers unknown

Furrow cast landscape torn

Brain sulci solstice forms

Harvest thought

Open the hand

Epochs of great tragedy

In the aged canyon folds

Epochs of great tragedy

In the aged canyon folds