The other side
Be it in the greyed moon,
Or the abscess of leisure,
The places of walking do fall victim in the night.
Bring a light to start a fire,
So say the scripture,
In the eyes of a madman.
Don’t shallow in the depths of an ocean,
Waking in the walls,
And fatherly figures do hold what they say.
Your gait is slow and leisurely,
In this great horizon,
But there is no other way.
The other side is fickle and afraid,
And the waters rise in the aforementioned atrocities,
To color the sky red and purple.
Your eyes gleam a pigment of violet,
sitting in a darkened mist obstructed by the leaves,
Fathomed without the consent of nature.