Encompassing itself,
Upon the darkness.
Is a thread of hearts,
And three bottles of tears.
I am chaining myself,
To the glories of the dead.
And I am cursing my false love,
Within the pit of death.
Throughout this mercy I am silent,
I am myself no more.
I am a spiral of meaning,
From which I cannot know.
I can think,
But in thinking I might be nothing.
I am known to clearly be something,
But I am still less than only myself.
I dream from within,
Of an endless book of sun.
Which brings clear light,
Upon the fabric of my heart.
My love is now in truth,
With every ocean in the sun.
I am clarified so beautifully,
Upon the beach of time.
And so in dreaming,
I shall not forget.
To be alone,
With the flowers of my heart.
I am led,
To oceans clear and white.
And yet my heart remains,
Within the shadows of the cave.