The Mythic Sommerfall (Back to the Primordial Waters)

Twisting vines chase the droplets of water
Falling from the eaves far above a chasm.
The song of an engine’s roar and sputter echoes in the distance
Unbenounced to the mystical workings underground.

Radical differences, immutable choices, lost faith
Set the way towards indifference. A land of desolation
And apathetic people. The creation of another wraith.
Mechanical aspirations sloughed off by natural sedation,
An elimination of artificial beings. Sleep away.
The flood gate of my mind bursts. Sleep away.

Strangling dreams do possess me as I’m awake
In this often changing scenery. I slightly choke
On a fear consuming me. Am I simply fake?

Emotions pouring forth remind me that I do feel.
I’m reeling from a realization, an awakening,
That I don’t truly agree with. I slowly begin to kneel
And cross my hands against my chest. Running
Hasn’t saved me from this world. Can’t get away
From this atmosphere choking me. So I’ll stay.

The vines constantly chase a magical beginning
Or perhaps an ending, a place to rest for eternity.
Away from sight, out of mind; the price of dreaming.
Afraid of the mechanical beast ripping apart the Trinity.

People. They learn to rely on the progress of design.
It doesn’t make sense why but they are willing to sign.
A deus ex machina. A reason to live free under an ensign.

Nature. What does it take to create? A sacrifice.
Take the beauty and synthesize it. Roll the dice.
What can go wrong? Throw a sword blindly and it’ll slice.

Compassion. Everybody is looking for someone
Who sees the light deep inside. Most of them are gone
But back into the game. All the same ’til what remains is bone.

I await the magical epiphany of this life to which I pay homage.
The world remains scarred, torn apart. Let’s heal the damage.

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