The spirit of hollow ideal was not the thing,
I remained inconsolable.
Truth demanded endless pursuit.
The helplessness of the beaten days
was unfit for the night of terror.
The false paradigm could not ignite the flame.
The shadows collapsed
and thoughts walked in dark into the trap.
Perfect splash of impulsive drive,
and movement of matter created hallucinations.
and the conduct of freezing moments had no parallel.
Cutting edge was evident.
How truth saved its pain,
of telling a heart the death of a silent dream.
The vision went blind.
Faithful figures did not write the wrong texts.
Escape from territory was complete and tracks were obliterated.
