Oh, what a looming scream.

Rippled through the cast

of the soldering blade.


Of heroic tasks

the elders have made.


The pursuit is unknown,

as we stand tall and alone.

Perhaps a screech or a moan,

what a price we must pay.


A darkened glimpse,

of all failed attempts.

To enlighten a gaze

of where not, we shall stay.


Complacent creatures,

with such burning desire.

These jobs have been chosen,

there’s a coward for hire.


Appeased is not,

the soldering blade.

For it must remain pierced,

to step out of the grave.

◄ Climb

Dark Matter ►


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