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Grasping in the dark cold hands

The voiceless phantom mythed in torn pages of a decomposing tome

The pages wither like burned flowers in a summer drought

They fall into dust

While questions arise in perpetual wanderlust...

Of unanswered questions and empty gestures

Mandrake saviors and eyes sewn shut

This living in fear

Fear of freedom

Fear of letting go... of things

The novice angel's somber strings...

Golden gates and choirs of angels sing praises to a heavenly host who's overlooked in arrogance the true majesty of the world

There is no God in buildings

This divisive, cunning method of control

Ignorance. Oblivion. Ungratefulness and greed

Forever wanting more when the table buckles from building plates so over filled with the beauty of this world

Death is my final gift

The leaves that fall nourish the soil with their decomposition and the oak will feed from itself again...

And the world thrives

Relish the wilderness

There are no forests in your Heaven

There are no forests in your Heaven

There are no forests in your Heaven

There are no forests in your Heaven

Because Heaven is within