Adorning Velvet Sensibilities
A faith in fear is no saving grace
Small worlds abound upon the purple journey sought
Small worlds for small gods within which we are caught,
Trampled by a knowledge of un-knowing
Defeated by the acceptance of surrender
Bitter from the chill of a bleak yet beautiful December.
I Promise To Pan
That Never Shall I Fail
In Being The Man I Am
And That Forever Shall I sail
The blue abyss to know
The warmth beneath the desert’s snow.
The journey purple bends my mind
It leaves me wild and hard to find
Lost within my kingdoms dream
Where nothing’s real or as it seems.
Here I am, awaiting a flicker of emotion to rise
Staring stone dead statuettes in their eyes
Awaiting breath anew to be cast by the lips of death.
The curtains are drawn to the sky re born above my tower
Here I am, in need of a shower, black holes swallowing eternity within my eyes.
The void is calling, the fear is falling and we are as shedding skins anew,
Turning bright and vivid colours our feathers that once were blue.
Who could have known?
Who could have shown us the way in our unwinding of the labyrinth?
The god of the corridor is stirred from slumber
Where is the girl I dreamt of devouring he cries?
Under what skies does she move?
Adorning velvet sensibilities