The exhilirating destruction, of the Sun's loving light.
Brings the coldest caress of Winters Night.

Where all is taken in the chill of a touch,
becoming nothing what once too much,

Delusions of grandeur are here no more,
Festering now the most hurtful sore,

Upon my pride,
My time I bide,
For when understanding comes again.
Also does the temptuous sin.

To think past life's lessons I can go,
As if moving upstream without having to row.

Shipwrecked will I be, until it is clear to see,
The Spirits of Truth, Have no time for me.

The path, it seems is one less taken.
But when it is found, the Earth behind you will close.
Futilly trying to make one of my own.
I thought not through the vines I'd find a rose..