• I can't stare through this window any longer
    With the new born trees as white as they were the previous months
    Once lay cold and dead in the night
    Now as bright as the some million eyes that peer from the blue green sky
    Filed neatly in order just as man wants them
    Just as Hyperion glows so very gently to the most gullible humans
    And, it seems that only I, for some strange reason see the beast, in this Godly figure
    The serrated grin, the seemingly harmless lie
    Yet I trust the darkness, but not with my soul
    Nor do I trust the light with anything it has to offer
    Nor your…Suggestions
    I am not a prophet, but I do think for myself
    Thoughts racing carefully through the superfluous mind
    Brooding in wait for spark of insanity
    Just as true angels do, for a chance at reality